


What we are

by raelilac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Cedric deserves the world, Forgiveness, Gen, Harry Potter Deserves Better, Hurt/Comfort, Just Friends, Not Romance, Resurrection Stone (Harry Potter), Reunions, cedric diggory is the loml, fuck voldemort all my homies hate voldemort, snape isn't a complete dick, the friendship we were robbed of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:00:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 47,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raelilac/pseuds/raelilac
Summary: Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory team up and train for the fast-approaching Triwizard Tournament, aka the friendship we were robbed of!
Relationships: Cedric Diggory & Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 173





	1. The not so dull morning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! Decided to re-read the Harry Potter series (fuck JK Rolling tho) and I realized how much I needed a friendship between Harry and Cedric. So without further ado, I give you my first attempt at writing their friendship! This is my first ever fic so I hope you all enjoy!!

The sun rose like a flower opening, gifting its petals unto the world. Amidst the cool morning air came the blush of scarlet and warmth of tangerine. Harry should have found this beautiful, it wasn't often he was awake early enough to watch the sunrise. Usually, his mornings were a blur of digging through his trunk for whatever sweater and trousers were clean enough and simultaneously trying to tame his unruly mass of black hair. But this morning wasn't like his previous mornings, for starters, he hadn't slept at all, despite both his body and mind aching with exhaustion, sleep never came. Instead of the calming black of closed eyes, the events from hours before played over and over. After hours of ruthlessly tossing and turning to no avail, Harry decided he might as well use the time awake to be productive and take his mind off the events of the previous night. Guilt and anxiety bubbled inside of him. Just nights earlier Harry had sheepishly imagined himself winning the Triwizard tournament. But that was just a silly thought, he hadn't actually wanted to enter. Taking out his unfinished potions essay on the uses of a strengthening solution, Harry attempted to make progress but ultimately failed. Looking at the three other sleeping boys, anger-filled Harry. They didn't have to worry about competing in a deadly tournament nor dealing with the repercussions. Harry knew Malfoy was going to have a field day making his life even more miserable than it already was. Putting away his essay Harry watched the sun slowly rise, dully wondering what his day would hold.

Not wanting to simmer in his own anger and frustration, Harry decided a change of scenery was exactly what he needed. Leaving the warmth and comfort of his bed, he quietly put on his school robes and moved to the common room. The old grandfather clock read 5:45 am, giving Harry fifteen minutes until breakfast was available in the Great Hall. Sitting alone in the common room seemed pointless, maybe a walk would help clear his head and organize his thoughts. Silently slipping through the portrait hole, Harry realized how rarely he appreciated the tranquility and peace mornings brought. The castle seemed strange without the chatter and clusters of students gossiping and racing to their classes. It hit Harry how uncommon it was for himself to wander through the halls alone, usually going everywhere with Ron and Hermione. The thought of Ron caused bitterness to surge in Harry. Their conversation from last night replayed in his head, Ron accusing him of entering the tournament, and worst of all acting like Harry wanted this. Harry wanted nothing more than to enjoy the tournament from the comfort of the stands and cheer for Cedric and Cedric alone. Aimlessly walking down the marble stairs, Harry was so lost in thought he didn't realize there was a boy in front of him until it was too late. With a painful thud, Harry found himself seated on the ground. Before he could even figure out who he ran into, a hand extended its self down to Harry. It was Cedric. Taking his hand, Harry had never felt guilter in his life. Cedric should have been the Hogwarts champion, the only Hogwarts champion. Harry couldn't blame Cedric if he hated him, hell, if Harry was in Cedric's shoes he would probably hate himself too.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there." Harry's voice came out fast and unsteady.

"No worries, you were actually the person I was looking for." Cedric wore a soft smile.

"Me?" Confusion filled Harry. "How did you know I would be awake?"

Cedric shrugged. "I Just assumed with all of the excitement last night that you would most likely be up. Well, anyway that's why I'm up so early."

"Fair enough, what did you want to see me for?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to train together for the tasks, or at least get in shape. Considering there are two of us competing for the same school it seems like a win-win kind of situation." He spoke sheepishly.

Harry was caught off guard, not two minutes ago was he convinced Cedric hated him but now he wanted to train together. "Yeah sounds great!" The words blurted out of Harry's mouth. To be completely honest Harry hadn't truly comprehended that he actually had to participate in the tasks, let alone train for them. The shock of his name fluttering from the Goblet into Dumbledore's boney hand still plagued his brain

Cedric beamed. "Great! Do you wanna meet tomorrow evening before dinner and go for a run around the grounds?"

"Sounds great," Harry responded automatically, quickly racking his brain to see if he had a prior commitment already.

"Fantastic, see you then!" Cedric gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder as he walked off in the opposite direction.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 Harry muttered to himself, still trying to process the fact that Cedric didn't completely hate him? Officially alone again, the once sinking feeling in his stomach was now replaced by a light airy sensation. Cedric wanted to train with 𝘩𝘪𝘮! Out of everybody in the school he wanted to prepare with Harry! It was a good feeling, to know what no matter what went wrong at least he had a friend in Cedric. Beeming, Harry made his way to the dining hall, maybe, just maybe everything was going to work out.


	2. two is better than one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!!

Harry's spirits remained high throughout the day, not even Malfoy's taunting about how he wasn't gonna last more than five minutes in the game could completely ruin his mood. At one point Harry almost considered trying to talk to Ron, but quickly decided against it. His friendship with Ron may have been on the rocks at the moment but at least he still had Hermione. Walking into the Great Hall for lunch he spotted the frizzy-haired witch and sat down next to her.

"How are you?" She greeted him in a polite tone.

"Actually, pretty good," responded Harry, wearing a sheepish smile.

"What's got your spirits so high?" She put down her fork and turned to face Harry.

Harry explained his encounter with Cedric and his offer to train together in preparation for the fast-approaching tasks.

"That's great Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry knew she meant what she said. "I think it will be good for me, I mean Cedric seems to know what he's doing, and in all honesty, I don't really care about winning I'm just trying to come out alive."

Hermione flashed him a soft smile. "I think you're gonna do great."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do."  
-  
The next day flew by, swamped with lessons and ungodly amounts of homework Harry barley registered it was almost dinner time. Racing up to his dorm, he was relieved to find it empty. Anxiety was creeping in, the last time Harry had willingly worked out was last Quidditch season which was months ago. Outside of Quidditch season, he either didn't have very much free time or was at the Dursley's house where he was rarely let out of his room with the exception of chores. Throwing on a pair of joggers and a maroon tee-shirt bearing the Gryffindor lion, Harry raced to the entrance of the grounds where he was greeted by a familiar face, Cedric.

"Was beginning to think you were gonna ditch me." Cedric wore a gentle smile.

Horrified, Harry blurted: "Sorry, lost track of time doing homework."

"No worries, I knew you were gonna show up eventually, anyways I was thinking we could run next to the black lake and turn around once we reach the forest since it will be dark soon and we should take it easy on the first day of getting into shape."

"Sounds great." Harry kneeled down to double knot his worn-out black sneakers.

"Ready?"

Harry gave a quick nod and with that, they began. Their pace was comfortable. Once the lake came into view Cedric initiated the conversation.

"So how did you do it?"

"Huh?" Harry was both caught off guard by his question and using the majority of his brainpower to make sure he stayed paced with Cedric as their speed slowly increased.

"You know, put your name in the Goblet? I heard Professor Dumbledore even drew the age line himself."

"Well I'm honored you think I am skilled enough to outsmart Dumbledore's age line but I didn't put my name in. I never wanted to compete in this tournament."  
Cedric looked puzzled as if he was trying to think of a way around the age line. "Really?"

"Yeah."

A comfortable silence fell between both boys, as they continued their pace around the lake.

"You should be the only champion, I'm sorry you have to share the spotlight." Harry's voice came out fast as he tried to regulate his breathing to match their pace.

Cedric gave a slight shrug before responding. "Honestly I don't mind, and I believe you."

Harry was taken aback. "You do?"

"Yeah, I reckon you would have to be insane to enter your own name at fourteen and you don't strike me as insane."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, and thank you for inviting me to train with you, honestly I don't give a damn about winning I just want to survive."

Cedric looked surprised. "No problem, in all honesty as much as I wanted to take part in this tournament now that it's actually happening I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. I thought that training with someone else would make everything a bit less formidable.

"And does it? Make things less formidable?"

Cedric grinned at Harry, "yeah it really does."

They continued their run around the black lake until they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest where they turned around, heading back to the comfort of the castle. The boys had been so lost in a conversation about Quidditch, Harry wasn't even bothered by the burning sensation in his legs.

"Sorry for what my dad said back there, about the match where you fell off your broom." Cedric looked sincere.

"Don't worry about it, it was ages ago," a soft smile spread across Harry's lips. Despite having his first proper conversation with Cedric today, Harry felt as if he'd known him a lifetime.

As they stepped foot back onto the main grounds of the castle, the sun had completely set, coating the vast grounds in starlit darkness. The instant they stopped running, tiredness hit Harry like a brick wall. His lungs burned and his legs felt heavy. Harry was relieved to see Cedric looking equally exhausted.

"If we keep this up Fleur and Krum won't know what hit them."

Harry grinned.

"What do you say to meet on Wednesday at the Room of Requirements to do some core?"

"The room of what?" Harry had never heard of such a room.

Cedric smiled, "meet in the library at four and I'll show you, you're gonna love it."


	3. Wonderful future, don't be cruel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is lowkey filler, but I promise it's gonna get exciting soon! Also thank you for almost 100 reads I've never really shared my writing with anybody before so it means a lot!!

Harry, did in fact love the Room of Requirements, it was like something out of a dream. A room that could conform to the user's needs! It only made Harry's love for the castle grow, Hogwarts truly was a magical place. Harry's admiration for Cedric grew with each training session, like the castle, there was so much more to him than a pretty face. Outside of Gryffindor and occasionally Slytherin, Harry had never really paid the other houses much thought. Sure Ravenclaws were known for their intelligence and Slytherin their cunning ambition but Hufflepuffs were often overlooked. Before Harry had met Cedric, he felt guilty to admit that he himself often disregarded Hufflepuffs as nothing special, but as it turned out, he had never been more wrong about something in his life.

Cedric Diggory embodied every trait of a Hufflepuff, he was just, unwaveringly loyal and most of all incredibly kind. During their first real conversation, Cedric had made it clear there was no bad blood between them and he truly didn't mind being co-champions with Harry. Harry wasn't sure he would ever be able to repay Cedric for his goodwill and gentleness.

With the first task looming mere days away, Harry was surprisingly feeling prepared. A month previously, Harry had discovered (with the help of Hagrid), that their first task was obtaining a large golden egg protected by a dragon. Immediately sharing this information with Cedric they began ramping up their training and studying. Harry had decided his best bet to get the egg was with his Firebolt, while Cedric had revealed he was going to use a bit of complex transfiguration magic to try and distract his dragon. Thanks to their regular training sessions Harry had never been in this good of shape before. He also realized previously, how little he knew about Cedric. With each session, he learned a new attribute, such as Cedric loved to play the piano and help his father tend to their vegetable and flower gardens. Cedric truly was one in a million.

In the morning on the first task, Harry waited by the Castle entrance. He and Cedric had agreed to walk down to the Quidditch stadium where the task was taking place, mutually agreeing it would help calm their nerves.

"How are you feeling?" Cedric shuffled through the crowd of students who were also making their way down to the stadium.

"Oh you know, fantastic." Harry forced a small smile, he was relieved to see Cedric looking just as nervous and perhaps terrified as he was.

"At least when this task if over we have until February till the second task!"

"Yeah." Was all Harry could muster, he felt as if he was going to throw up his minuscule breakfast of eggs and toast. "All I know is I don't want to get that Horntail." A shudder passed through Harry at just mentioning its name.

"Hopefully Krum gets it, he seems more than capable of handling it," replied Cedric, looking hopeful.

"Yeah, hopefully," Harry agreed

They continued their trek to the Champions tent in silence, both overcome with nerves about facing an angry dragon. Fleur and Krum both appeared to be on edge as well. Harry found himself pacing back and forth, fighting the urge to vomit. The knot in Harry's stomach only grew as Ludo Bagman walked in followed by Dumbledore, Madame Maxine, and Igor Karkaroff.

"It is now time to pick your dragon, we will draw them in the order that you will face them, starting with Mr. Diggory." Bagman explained as he held open a cloth sack in front of Cedric.

Cedric looked pale as he plunged his hand into the bag. Harry knew he was probably silently praying he didn't get the Horntail. Opening his palm and letting out a sigh of relief he revealed a miniature version of the Swedish Short-Snout.

"Ahh the Swedish Short-Snout very nice, next to Miss Delacour." Bagman repeated the process of holding the bag open for her to draw her dragon. "A Welsh Green, fantastic!" Bagman sounded genuinely excited as he moved the bag from Fleur to Viktor.

Harry felt dizzy, despite not being religious, he found himself silently praying to whatever higher being was out there to give Krum the Horntail and spare Harry. But as usual, the universe seemed content on watching Harry suffer. Krum's open palm displayed a miniature version of the Chinese Fireball. Harry almost wanted to laugh, it would have been funny if Harry didn't actually have to face one of the most vicious breeds of Dragons momentarily. Briefly, Harry met Cedric's eyes who looked terrified. It didn't make Harry feel any better.

"Lastly, Mr. Potter." Bagman motioned the bag towards Harry.

Reaching in, Harry closed his fist around the last dragon, a burning sensation greeting his exposed skin as the tiny dragon let out a burst of fire.

"The Hungarian Horntail." Bagman sounded a lot less enthusiastic than he did with the previous three dragons.

Harry barely had time to comprehend his own situation before Bagman spoke again.

"At the sound of the canon, Mr. Diggory will face his dragon first. I wish luck to all of you." And with that, the sound of the canon signified the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament.

As Cedric was moving to leave the tent Harry caught his arm.

"Good luck Ced." The saliva in his mouth was thick, Harry was now not only feeling nervous for himself but nervous for Cedric.

"You too Harry." Giving Harry a firm grasp on the shoulder, Cedric exited the tent, greeted by the roar of the crowd.

Less than ten minutes later the crowd erupted in its loudest cheer yet and the loudspeaker signified that Cedric had successfully captured his egg. As happy as Harry was for Cedric, it only slightly eased his anxiety, still knowing that not only was he was the last to compete, but also had to face the most treacherous dragon. Fleur took the longest amount of time to capture her egg compared to Cedric and Krum, but soon enough it was Harry's turn to contend.  
With a booming echo, the loudspeaker announced, "And now for our final competitor Harry Potter who will be facing the Hungarian Horntail."  
If there was any applause or cheers Harry couldn't tell. His nerves combined with the thumping beat of his heart drowned out any outside noise. Exiting the tent Harry was faced with not only a completely packed stadium but standing not more than a couple of yards in front of him was the angriest looking dragon he had ever seen.

"Accio Firebolt!" Cried Harry, crouching behind a large rock to take coverage from the stream of fire that erupted from the Horntail. 'You defeated the basilisk when you were twelve, singlehandedly fought off over a hundred dementors last year, you can get the bloody egg,' Harry thought to himself, desperately trying to stay calm as he waited for his firebolt. Suddenly the firebolt appeared before him, causing Harry's heart to leap with relief, maybe he had a chance at surviving this hellish tournament. Quickly getting on his broom, Harry suddenly felt in control, he was in his element. Hastily, Harry formulated his plan for getting the egg. Despite the Horntail being faster and stronger than Harry, it was chained up while Harry was free. With a sudden dive, Harry pulled the horntail as far away from its egg as it's restraints let it and cut in front of the beast. With a burst of flame, Harry hugged his broom tighter than he had ever done in his life, and with one hand reached down the scooped up his egg. With his egg in one hand and broom in the other Harry exited the ring. Instantly Harry was greeted by a familiar face, Cedric.

"Harry you did amazing!" Cedric somehow seemed even more excited for Harry than Harry was for himself.

"You did fantastic too!" Harry hadn't actually watched Cedric due to being confined to the tent but he wasn't about to say that.

Cedric gave Harry a warm smile as he accompanied Harry to the hospital tent. Maybe just maybe this tournament wasn't gonna be so bad.


	4. Midnight career advice

After being patched up by Madam Pomfrey, Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room where he was greeted by a sea of cheering faces. The second he stepped through the portrait hole he was hoisted into the air by none other than Fred and George. The common room burst into excited cheers as Harry hugged the golden egg to his chest.

"Here he is, the defeater of dragons," cried Fred

"Our future Triwizard champion!" Finished George as they excitedly carried Harry around the room.

"Who wants me to open the egg?" Harry asked the mass of students, covered head to toe in Gryffindor's iconic maroon and gold. In response to Harry's question, the room erupted in a synchronized yell. "Alright, let's see what the egg has to say." Unclasping the egg a horrific screech exploded throughout the room. In a hurry to cover their ears both Fred and George let go of Harry causing him to tumble to the ground. Summoning what was left of his adrenaline Harry clasped the egg shut.

"Bloody hell."

Harry looked up to see where the familiar voice was coming from. Peering down at him, he was greeted by the face of Ron, who without second thought extended his hand down to Harry and pulled him off the floor.

"Sorry for not believing you Harry, I was jealous, I know you didn't put your name in the Goblet." Ron looked and sounded sincere.

"Took you long enough," Harry was feeling too alive to even consider holding a grudge against Ron. "It's in the past let's just move on from it." Harry raised his arm, signaling for Ron to shake his hand.

Ron smiled as he met Harry's hand. Harry felt as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He hated unresolved tension and was more than glad to be back on good terms with Ron.

"I'm starving, do you want to grab lunch with me?"

"Yeah, that would be great." Harry didn't even bother changing out of his singed clothes as he and Ron departed from the common room to the Great Hall.

It was over a week before Harry and Cedric decided to meet again and discuss how they should prepare for the second task. Harry was relieved to hear that Cedric hadn't paid his egg much attention either, considering they had almost three months until the second task.

Before leaving to go to the Room of Requirements Harry doubled checked the Marauders Map to make sure Filch wasn't lurking around the seventh-floor corridor. It was already well past Harry's fourth-year curfew, but it was the only time that worked with Cedric to meet. With a clear coast, Harry quickly made his way to the room where he was greeted by the friendly sight of Cedric. The taller boy was sitting on the ground, wearing a pair of loose-fitting black sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt bearing the signature Hufflepuff badger. He was surrounded by books.

"Sorry it's so late, I've had a crazy amount of homework and career research." His brown eyes looked exhausted.

The mention of career researched, piqued Harry's curiosity. "What do you want to do after you graduate Hogwarts?"

Cedric gave him a thoughtful look before responding. "Honestly, I'm not sure at the moment. My dad want's me to work for the ministry, says I'll make a comfortable amount, but I would rather do something I truly enjoy rather than focusing on the money aspect."

"Well, what do you enjoy?" Harry didn't truly know why he was so invested in Cedric's future considering the purpose of their meetings was to prepare for whatever challenged the tournament threw their way.

"I think it would be rather neat to be a curse breaker, you know, what Bill Weasley does for Gringotts in Egypt."

Harry didn't really know what it was being a curse breaker entailed, but from what he had heard from Ron and the rest of the Weasley's was that Bill enjoyed his line of work and was very good at it.

"I think you should go for it!" Harry spoke encouragingly.

"Thanks, Harry, although there is another thing I enjoy, I don't think I'm cut out to make a future for myself with it."

"What's that?" "The piano, my mother taught me before she passed. When I play I feel like she is still with me." Cedric's eye's still met Harry's.

"If you think that's your calling, I think you should follow it." Cedric had only briefly spoken about his love for the piano, but when he did, Harry saw the way his face lit up, how thoughtfully he spoke of it almost as if it was an extension of his being.

"We will see what the future holds, for both of us." Cedric reached down and grabbed one of the books he had been reading before Harry arrived. "So I haven't really done much with my egg yet because I'm not sure how, but the egg shouldn't be our main concern just yet considering we still have plenty of time." He held up the cover so Harry could read it. "I found this book in the library, it contains the history and everything you would ever need to know about the Triwizard Tournament. While I don't think a task is going to be repeated I think it could be incredibly useful to read about strategies other contestants used and how they succeeded."

The cover of the book depicted the coveted cup that was awarded to the winner of the tournament. Harry was surprised to see how thick the book was, but suppose it made sense considering the tournament had been taking place since 1294.

"Obviously our main focus will be on figuring out what we are supposed to do with the eggs, but I honestly believe learning about the tournament could give us a leg up on Fleur and Krum."

"Sounds great." "Since there is only one book we could trade-off every week when we meet to train and share with each other anything important or anything that stands out." Cedric handed the book to Harry.

Harry took the book and glanced down at his watch, it was almost midnight, he knew he should get back to his dorm or he would be in serious trouble if caught out of bed.

"Thanks, what time should we meet next week?"

"Hmm, let's do after dinner next Thursday."

And with that, Harry shot Cedric a nod before leaving the Room of Requirments. The realization that he should have probably brought his invisibility cloak dawned on him. How could he be so stupid to not bring it? All Harry could do was hope that luck was on his side as he quickly made his way down the corridor. Just as he was about to reach Gryffindor tower he heard a voice that made his heart sink; Snape.

"What are you doing out of bed Potter?" His eyes appeared to be black in the moonlight.

Harry could feel a cold sweat forming as he tried to think of an excuse for being out of bed so late. Silently he cursed to himself, he should have brought his damn cloak. "I needed some air." Harry met Snape's eyes.

"You needed some air?" Snape didn't sound impressed.

"Yes, Professor."

"Considering it's past your curfew and I don't believe you were up merely for some air, fifty points from Gryffindor and detention, tomorrow."

With that Snape walked away, leaving Harry alone. Once Snape was completely out of sight, Harry stepped through the portrait hole and crawled into bed, thoroughly exhausted yet simultaneously dreading his detention tomorrow.


	5. why won't the egg talk to us?

Harry's Thursday passed by as many Thursdays did, that was until his detention with Snape rolled around. Detentions with any teacher weren't ideal, but Snape's always seemed especially awful. The last detention he had with Snape earlier that year, Harry spent his evening gutting and bottling the insides of frogs. Needless to say, he was not looking forward to what his evening had to hold.   
Harry only had ten minutes to eat before he was due in the dungeon. Despite not being terribly hungry, Harry knew it would be smart to eat. There was no use of spending his night miserable 𝘢𝘯𝘥 hungry. Saying goodbye to Ron and Hermionie, Harry left the warmth of the great hall and departed for the dungeon. Standing outside Snape's classroom, Harry gave a slight knock before the door opened. He was greeted by the sight of Professor Snape sitting at his desk reading over essays, looking unamused. 

"This evening you will be cleaning and noting what needs to be restocked." 

Harry looked at the wall of glass jars surrounding the back of the classroom. 𝘐𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦, Harry silently thought to himself. To be quiet honest, Harry had never minded cleaning. Being forced to routinely clean the Dursley's house it had always allowed him some peace from their hateful glares and comments.   
"You will find everything you need on the table in the back." 

Without another word, Harry made his way to the back and set down his bag. On the table, he found a cloth, bowl of water, quill, and piece of parchment. Not wanting to stay in the dreadful room longer than necessary, Harry got to work immediately. The process of cleaning was incredibly straight forward: take one jar off the shelf, wipe it down, remove any and all greasy fingerprints, wipe down the area where it sat, and making sure its contents were adequately stocked. Once Harry found his rhythm he could have considered it almost relaxing, with the process drilled into his body, Harry allowed his mind to wonder. He had started reading "A History of the Triwizard Tournament", and to his surprise, it was actually fascinating. For instance, in 1792, a task involving participants to catch a cockatrice ended with all three judges getting severely injured. The book also confirmed Harry's sneaking suspicion as to why the tournament had been discontinued; too many participants had met their demise. The thought sent a shudder through Harry, hopefully, they had worked out the kinks and eliminated any life-threatening dangers. Considering the bluntness of the first task Harry wasn't completely convinced they would all make it out alive. The creaking of a door brought Harry out of his thoughts. 

With his back facing the door, Harry continued cleaning. Silently he guessed who had entered Snape's classroom, the first person who came to mind was Malfoy, which he wasn't entirely sure why. The stark voice of Igor Karkaroff confirmed why Harry often doubted his intuition. 

"It's getting darker, Severus you know what this means." Karkaroff's voice held a sense of urgency that spiked Harry's interest.

It was obvious that Karkaroff hadn't registered Harry's presence. Part of Harry hoped Snape had also forgotten Harry was there so he could continue to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

"I will not be having this conversation now." Snape's voice was quiet, yet held a dangerous edge to it. "If you know what's best for yourself then you will flee." 

Harry couldn't help himself, he turned to face the two older men. Karkaroff's sleeve was rolled up, revealing an ugly looking tattoo. The moment Harry's eyes met the black mark, pain surged through his scar. Closing his eyes in anguish, he saw a flash of green light, felt the cold embrace of death, and heard a familiar voice call his name. It wasn't until he opened his eyes did he comprehend that he was now lying on the cold ground with both men staring at him. Karkaroff looked as if he could murder Harry on the spot, while Snape held an almost concerned glance. Before Harry could sit up Karkaroff stormed out of the classroom, leaving him alone with Snape.

"Are you alright Potter?"

Surprised at the slight concern showed by Snape, Harry tried to process what he had just witnessed, it all seemed to trace back to the tattoo on Karkaroff's arm. 

"Yeah, I think so." Harry paused before continuing. "That mark on Karkaroff, when I looked at it my scar felt like it was on fire." 

"You are dismissed from detention," Snape replied without giving Harry any insight into what the mark was or if it was connected to his scar. 

Without another word, Harry grabbed his bag and left the dungeon, still shaken up from his vision. The green flash reminded him too much of the one he occasionally saw in dreams, the one that killed his parents, the one that spared him all those years ago. Pushing these thoughts out of his head, Harry darted up the stairs leading to Gryffindor tower and through the portrait hole. He was relieved to see that nobody was in the common room, he was in no mood to talk with anyone. Once in the comfort of his dormitory, Harry pulled out his copy of "A History of the Triwizard Tournament" and drifted off to images of contenders trying to appease agitated Chimeras.   
\-   
Harry's training session with Cedric turned out to be a bright spot in his retched week. Plagued with not only his vision but now nightmares that were just as vague and somehow even more frightening. They always began in the same unfamiliar graveyard, Harry could never move in these dreams, his body always felt so heavy as if somebody had placed hundreds of cinder blocks on top of him. The thick foggy air that blanketed the graves seemed to be rich with the sense of foreboding as if something was going to claw it'self out of the ground. Sometimes there were muffled voices, other times there were only shadows. Harry always awoke to a sharp pain in his scar and a cold sweat. Part of him felt like he should tell Dumbledore but the other part of him already felt like he had caused the older man to many issues already. 

Their training session was exactly the distraction Harry needed. Cedric had told him to bring his egg and meet him in the Room of Requirments. The egg starkly reminded Harry of something he could find in a muggle shop as a tacky decoration. Part of him hoped that he would be allowed to bring the egg back to the Dursleys, it would look nice in his dull room. 

To Harry's surprise, Cedric was standing outside of the room, his egg tucked under his arm. 

"So I thought we could try to figure out the eggs today since the earlier we know what the second task is, the more time we will have to prepare for it." Cedric looked thoughtfully at his egg. 

"Sounds great." 

"I was thinking what if we have to activate them somehow, maybe dropping them from a certain height will give them the ability to talk rather than scream."

It honestly didn't sound like a bad idea, maybe Cedric was onto something. 

"The highest point in the school is the astronomy tower, should we begin there?" 

While Cedric made his way to the top of the astronomy tower, Harry made his way to the courtyard directly below it. The plan was for Cedric to drop both of their eggs and for Harry to see if anything happened to them. Harry was glad to see that not many students were in the courtyard, it would be best if they didn't attract a crowd. 

"Ready Harry?" Cedric shouted from the top of the tower.

"Let them fly!" Harry called back.

To their disappointment the eggs slammed against the cobblestone and unclasped, releasing their bloodcurdling scream. They repeated this process two more times, getting the same unpleasant results as the first attempt. 

"I don't think dropping them is what we're meant to do," Harry said as they regrouped. 

"Yeah, it was worth a shot though." Cedric didn't seem the slight bit disheartened. 

"I was thinking, what if the temperature effects them? Maybe if we expose them to extreme heat or cold they will give us some insight." It was the only idea coming to Harry's mind.

"That's a great idea!" Cedric sounded thrilled with Harry's contribution. "We can put them in the fireplace in the Great Hall, it's the warmest fire in the school."

With that Harry and Cedric made their way to the Great Hall where students were slowly filtering out of. A handful of teachers remained, quietly talking amongst themselves at the head table. Paying them no attention, the boys arrived at the large fireplace.

"Wingardium leviosa." Harry quietly muttered to himself as he levitated the egg into the scorching flames. "How long should we leave them in there for?" Harry turned to face Cedric.

Cedric simply shrugged and plopped down on the bench facing the dancing flames. Not knowing what else to do, Harry followed his example and sat down next to him. He was about to ask Cedric how is career search was going when Professor McGonagall approached them. 

"Mr. Diggory, I never got the chance to congratulate you on your performance during the first task. Well done, you as well Mr. Potter although I already told you this." The older woman smiled at them, looking proud.

"Thank you, Professor, if it wasn't for your teaching of transfiguration I'm not sure what I would have done." Cedric gave her a soft smile.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry replied, suddenly feeling very sleepy as the warmth of the fire washed over him. 

Cedric and Mcgonagall continued to chat as Harry felt his eyes grow heavy. It had been almost a week since he got a proper night's sleep and he was feeling its effects. Slowly giving in, Harry drifted off to the peaceful crackle of the fire, on the precipice of dreaming a calm voice jolted him back to wakefulness.

"Tired?" Cedric said with a soft laugh.

Disoriented by fatigue, Harry didn't realize his head had been rested on Cedric's shoulder. Feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment he shot back into a sitting position. 

"Sorry, I was watching the fire and must have drifted off, I haven't been sleeping very well lately."

"No worries, how bout after we take the eggs out of the fire we call it a night, we can freeze them next week. It's been almost thirty-minuets if the heat hasn't effected them now then we're probably looking in the wrong place for answers."

With a swish of his wand, Cedric levitated both eggs out of the burning coals and onto the stone in front of the fireplace. 

"Let's hope this works." 

With the same movement of his wand as before, Cedric unclasped both eggs unleashing their ugly cry. Luckily everybody had cleared out of the dining hall so there was no one left to glare at the awful noise they were causing. Quickly Cedric closed both of the eggs.

"Maybe freezing them will do the trick." Harry gave Cedric a tired grin. 

To Harry's surprise, his egg was cool to the touch as if the fire hadn't touched the egg at all. Saying goodnight to Cedric, Harry made his way back to his dorm, praying he would have a dreamless sleep.


	6. Wingman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight disclaimer: I don't ship Harry and Hermione but I love their friendship its so wholesome. The same goes for Harry and Cedric this fic is solely about their friendship bc the age gap between them makes me uncomfy. Also, I hate Krum who told JK it was okay for an 18-year-old to go after a 14-year-old. Anyways that's just me, I hope you enjoy this chapter because it was fun to write.

As the new year grew closer, Harry's anxiety only increased. Not only had he and Cedric made little progress on their eggs but his dreams had only been getting worse. Normally Harry was in the graveyard alone, but now someone else was there. Harry wasn't sure if it was even human, more of an entity. It was definitely alive but was shapeless almost like a dementor. Despite never acknowledging Harry's presence, it filled Harry with a feeling of terror. He highly doubted it was a harbinger of anything good. 

The announcement of the Yule Ball was just about Harry's last straw. After class Professor, Mcgonagall pulled him aside and made sure he was aware that he needed a date since it was the tradition for the participants in the tournament to have the first dance. Now ontop of everything Harry was already dealing with he needed to find a date. The idea of dating somebody had never truly crossed Harry's mind, he had been too busy escaping death to worry about it. In theory having a girlfriend sounded nice, but the reality of having to worry about another person overwhelmed Harry, he didn't want anyone else to end up in danger because of him. While Harry didn't know where to begin asking someone to the ball, he knew just the person who could help him.

It was only mid-December yet the castle grounds were already coated with a thick blanket of snow. The winter air felt refreshing as Harry made his way to the courtyard to meet Cedric. Harry wasn't feeling in the mood to go for a run in the arctic conditions but knew it would be helpful in the long run. 

"So there's more snow than I anticipated, but I think a short run in the winter conditions will make us all the more prepared." Cedric wore his usual black joggers but instead of his normal long sleeve, he wore a sweatshirt and windbreaker, accompanied by wool socks and mittens. 

Harry could feel his teeth violently chattering as he zipped up his coat. Despite wearing multiple layers he felt naked as a gust of raw wind nearly knocked him over. The sooner they were back in the warmth of the castle, the better. 

"Yeah, I always forget how brutal the winters are here." Harry ran in place, hoping to generate some body heat. It would be embarrassing if frostbite took him out over the actual tournament. 

They began their run at an easy pace, guaranteed they couldn't go very fast anyways with the mass of snow that covered the ground. Despite not taking more than a couple of steps, Harry's shoes and socks were soaked.

"Excited for the ball?" Asked Cedric with a grin.

"Eh, dancing isn't really my thing, are you?" A pang of jealousy hit Harry, Cedric probably already had a date and if he didn't he could easily get any girl in the school.

"I think it'll be fun, it's not every day I can breakout my ballroom dancing moves, and let me tell you they are a sight to behold."   
Harry found himself grinning, it didn't surprise him at all that Cedric was good at dancing, it was simply something he would be good at. 

"Do you have a date yet? McGonagall told me all the champions need one, apparently, we're opening the ball or something like that." Harry felt embarrassed asking Cedric something that seemed personal. 

"Not at this moment, Fleur tried to pull her Veela charm on me, but I politely declined."

Harry felt taken back, Fleur had asked him and he said no? Was he mad?

"You said no to Fleur?" Harry couldn't hide the confusion in his voice. 

Cedric gave a small shrug before answering. "She's not really my type, I'm thinking of asking Cho, how about you? Do you have a date?"

"No, actually I was wondering if you could give me some advice on how to ask somebody to the ball." Harry felt his face redden and it wasn't just from running in the cold.

Cedric beamed at Harry. "Of course I'll help you! Isn't that what friends are for?" 

Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him, he couldn't believe he thought Cedric hated him at one point now he was going to help Harry score a date.

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Cedric seemed genuinely excited to be involved in Harry's love life.

"Great, thanks so much!" Harry smiled at Cedric. "Where do we even begin?"

"Well for starters, just because you're going to the ball with them doesn't mean you have to keep dating them afterward, but obviously that's up to you and whoever you go with. For starters who are some girls you like or would consider going with?"

Harry thought for a moment. The last crush he had, had been on Cho but he wasn't about to mention it. Hermionie was one of his best friends, but that was just it, she was his friend and he didn't want to ruin their friendship by asking her. Katie Bell maybe? He highly doubted she would go with him. Why was he thinking of Malfoy? That was a thought to pick apart another day. 

"I'm not sure, I've never really thought about it before." Harry felt slightly embarrassed, the thought of Malfoy still on his mind. 

"No worries, let's think of girls in your year and you tell me if you would consider going with them or not." Cedric paused a moment, obviously trying to think of girls in Harry's year. "Hannah Abbott?"

Harry didn't know much about Hannah besides she was in Hufflepuff and a friend of Ernie Macmillian.

"I don't really know her, we've only spoken briefly in herbology"

"What about Hermionie, you're friends with her right?" 

Harry quickly explained how he didn't want to make things awkward between them by asking her to the ball. Before Cedric could suggest another girl they found themselves back in the courtyard.

"Wow time sure does fly when you're having fun," Cedric said while catching his breath.

Harry wasn't sure he would classify talking about his love life in the freezing cold 'fun', but it certainly did make their run go by fast. As the boys made their way inside Cedric turned to face Harry, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to help you find a date if it's the last thing I do."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, Cedric was truly something special. 

-  
Cedric did uphold his promise of helping Harry get a date. It was a few days after their wintry run when Cedric approached Harry in the library. 

"Harry, I've come up with the perfect plan to score you a date." His voice brimming with excitement. 

"What's that?" Harry was open to anything at this point, with the ball fast approaching panic was starting to set in. After everything Harry had survived getting a date truly was going be the thing that took him out.

Just as Cedric was about to explain his brilliant plan, Hermione sat down across from them, her frizzy hair was windswept and her eyes were red as if she had been crying.

"Hold on Ced, Hermionie are you okay?" Harry felt a slight pang of worry, Hermione was the most composed person he had ever crossed paths with, he had only seen her cry once when they thought Buckbeak had been executed. 

Hermionie looked surprised to see Cedric sitting with Harry.

"I'll give you guys some space," Cedric spoke politely as he moved to a different table.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione's voice was raspy as if she had been crying for hours.

"You know you can always talk to me?" Harry spoke as softly as he could, trying his best to comfort Hermione. "We can go somewhere more private if you like?"

"Yes, I would like that." Her voice was quiet and her gaze was glued to the floor. 

Harry shot Cedric a small wave as he and Hermione exited the library. The most private place Harry could think of was the girl's bathroom on the second floor where the entrance to the chamber of secrets stood. Silently praying Moaning Myrtle wouldn't bother them, Harry opened the entrance to the bathroom. Relieved to see that they were alone, Harry sat down pressing his back against the stone wall. Hermione spoke first.

"I was going about my day, you know like I always do, when I noticed Viktor was following me. I usually see him quite a bit throughout my day, especially when I'm in the library so I didn't think much of it." She took a breath before continuing. "After potions class, I was on my way back to the common room when I saw him again. He began talking to me and out of nowhere asked me to go to the dance with him."

Harry was confused, he didn't know much about Viktor but he knew that almost every girl in the school wanted to go out with him. He would have thought Hermione would have been thrilled for him to ask her.

"I know what you are probably thinking, but I'm not finished yet." Her voice had a sharp edge to it as if she had peered into Harry's thoughts. "I was a bit confused and taken aback when he asked me, you know me out of all the other girls in the school. Part of me wanted to say yes." A small smile broke over her lips but quickly vanished. "But when I looked into his eyes I got this horrible feeling and then it really hit me, he's eighteen and I'm fourteen. So I trusted my gut and told him no. Obviously he wasn't expecting me to say that because he suddenly got really angry and grabbed my wrist. I told him to get away from me, but the only thing he said was that I would regret this. and stalked off" Hermione's eyes were brimming with tears as if she was reliving the memory. 

"I'm sorry he did that to you." Harry looked into her eyes. "You deserve better than a rotten prick like Krum." He gently placed his hand on her upper arm, trying to soothe her. 

"Do you think he meant what he said? That I'm gonna regret not going with him?"

Harry didn't exactly know how to answer. He knew very little about Krum accept for the fact that he himself was intimidated by him. Viktor was a foot taller and probably a hundred pounds heavier than Harry and not to mention, didn't appear to like, or even acknowledge Harry's existence at all.

"If he even dares to lay a hand on you I will fight him myself." Harry was surprised at how confident his own voice sounded. While he probably wouldn't win the fight, he meant every word he said.

Hermione grinned.

"Harry, do you wanna go to the ball with me? Just as friends, of course, I think it could be fun."

Harry was shocked, not three days ago did he explain to Cedric why he couldn't ask Hermionie to the dance and here she was asking him. Life truly did work in mysterious ways.

"Yeah, I think it will be fun." Harry stood up, offering his hand down to Hermione.

She beamed at him. As they left the bathroom, Harry made a mental note to recruit Cedric if he did need to fight Krum, together they could probably take him.


	7. A familiar face

Harry couldn't believe he had been dreading the Yule ball, it turned out to be an enjoyable evening. Not even Harry's clumsy dance moves could sour his mood. But in the end, it turned out the best part of the dance didn't take place inside the castle, it happened outside, as Harry was getting some air. Turning to make his way back inside and re-connect with Hermione, a familiar voice caught his attention, Cedric. 

"Harry, come over here." He whispered and motioned Harry to join him where he was crouched behind a pillar.

Startled by Cedric, Harry scurried to where he was sitting.

"What are you doing here? Why are we whispering." Harry asked in a hushed voice.

"It's Snape and Karkaroff, they're talking about something that sounds important."

Harry assumed a kneeling position on the cold ground, making sure his head stayed hidden behind the stone pillar. Trying the best he could to block out the background noise, Harry honed in on the unmistakable voice of Snape. 

"I have nothing to fear Igor, can you say the same?" Snape's voice was as sharp as a dagger.

"Do you think he is truly going to return?" Karkaroff questioned, his voice tainted with fear.

"As I said before, if you are too afraid to face him I suggest you run, but we both know he will find you one way or another." Harry didn't need to see Snape's face to know that he was sneering. 

The sound of approaching footsteps sent fear surging through Harry, if Snape caught him listening to his conversations again he would probably kill Harry right then and there. Harry and Cedric's eyes locked, neither boy was sure what to do. 

"Potter!" Snape's voice brimmed with anger as he saw both Harry and Cedric crouching together. "Diggory?" Snape's face contorted from angry to confused, he clearly hadn't planned on finding both Hogwarts champions huddled behind a pillar.

"Sir, Harry and I were just talking about the second task," Cedric responded automatically. "We needed somewhere quiet to talk, I didn't want Viktor or Fleur to overhear." His brown eyes locked on Snapes.

Snape looked like he wanted to say something, but at the last minute thought against it. Giving both boys one final glare before stalking off. Silence remained between Harry and Cedric, still holding their breath in case Snape decided to come back. After a moment Harry let out a quiet sigh of relief. 

"Good save." 

"Thanks, and it was partly true, I figured out the egg and I was going to tell you when I overheard their conversation."

"You figured it out? How?" Harry's heart raced with anticipation. 

"To make a long story short, Professor Moody told me to stay behind after class where he asked me about both you and the egg."

"Me?" Harry's voice wavered with confusion, he had really enjoyed Moody's class but found it odd that he asked Cedric about him.

Cedric shrugged before continuing to re-tell his encounter with Moody.

"I told him you were fine but neither of us had figured out the egg yet. He asked me if I tried putting the egg in water, which I told him no."

"I thought teachers couldn't help us?" McGonagall had made it very clear to Harry that she had wanted to help him, but was prohibited. But yet again Moody wasn't like the other teachers, during one of their first lessons he demonstrated to the fourth year class all three unforgivable curses. 

"Yeah, I thought the same but considering the second task is soon I'm not gonna complain." Cedric stood up and brushed himself off, before he offered his hand to Harry, pulling him up. "Just try submerging your egg and see if it does anything, assuming it does let's meet next week."

"Sounds great." Harry couldn't believe Moody had told Cedric exactly what to do, but yet again he doubted that either of them would have guessed to submerge the egg on their own. 

"And Harry? Congrats on getting a date, I always believed in you."Cedric flashed Harry a playful smile as they made their way back to the humid dance floor. 

The night continued smoothly after that, it wasn't until Harry had made his way back to his dormitory had he remembered the conversation Snape and Karkaroff were having. It sounded uncomfortably similar to the one they had during Harry's detention. Karkaroff's words were ingrained into his brain 'do you think he is going to return?' Who could he be talking about? What was that mark on his arm? Why was he talking to Snape of all people? Why did Karkaroff sound so scared? Harry danced around these questions until he could no longer keep his eyes open, finally giving into sleep.

Tonight he was greeted by a new nightmare, no longer in the graveyard, but instead, a worn-down house that appeared to be abandon. Harry was sitting on the dirty floor, his legs in a crossed position. His gaze was fixed on the fireplace, it seemed to be incredibly outdated as if it was constructed in the early 1900s rather than the '90s. There was no fire, but the house didn't feel cold, rather it felt almost uncomfortably warm. Harry tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to regulate some airflow. It wasn't until a soft voice spoke did Harry feel his heart sink.

"Ahh Harry, it's been a moment."

Harry tried to move but his legs seemed to be stuck in their crisscrossed position, preventing Harry from seeing who the voice belonged to. The voice was unnervingly familiar, causing the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand. No longer worried about keeping his calm demeanor, Harry began frantically trying to convey movement in his legs.

"It's funny. You're stuck, you know you're stuck, yet you continue to struggle." The voice gave a quiet laugh. "If anybody knows anything about being stuck, it's me." 

At that Harry violently craned his neck, using every fiber of his being to catch a glimpse of the taunting voice. From the corner of his eye, he caught the faintest flash of brown curls and unnaturally pale skin. The feeling of being trapped prevented Harry from thinking clearly. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬! His mind was screaming at him, then the sickening realization dawned over Harry; it was Tom Riddle. But it couldn't be? Harry had watched the figment of Voldemort's past vanish before his very eyes, it couldn't be possible for him to be here.

"Tom." Harry's voice came out in a whisper.

The sound of Tom getting up from where he was sitting caused a cold sweat to break out over Harry's face.

"Harry, you know I hate that name." Tom was now standing in front of Harry. He looked exactly as he did when Harry had entered the chamber of secrets and saved Ginny, still wearing his school robes and emerald tie, emblematic of the Slytherin colors.

"You can't be here. I watched you vanish myself." Harry's eyes locked with the older boys.

"It's pathetic you defeated me." Tom shook his head before sitting down in front of Harry, mimicking his crossed-legged position. "This is a dream, I'm apart of you're dream."

"No, it can't be." Despite usually being aware he was dreaming, Harry could often will himself awake with the mere realization that he wasn't anywhere besides his bed." Using all of his willpower, Harry scrunched his eyes shut and thought about waking up, but to his dismay, the pale boy still remained feet away from him. 

"You really are dim." Tom sounded incredibly bored as if he would rather be anywhere than sitting with Harry. 

"Why are you here? I haven't been thinking of you, you have no right to be in my dreams." Harry demanded, once again meeting Tom's dark eyes.

To his annoyance, Tom only shrugged and gave Harry an amused smile, as if he was enjoying Harry's lack of control over the situation. 

"Answer me!" 

"No need to yell." His voice was silky. "Dreams are typically our unconscious mind trying to communicate something to us. Look around Harry, take in your surroundings, maybe they will save your pathetic little life."

Harry swiveled his neck, trying his best to drink up his surroundings. The room he was in appeared to be a living room judging by the fireplace and large windows. He had never seen nor been inside a house that replicated this one, it wasn't until something in the distance caught his eye. Through the window nearest him, Harry saw the silhouette of what looked like a graveyard. It was the same graveyard that so often plagued his dreams. 

"I've been there before." He didn't exactly know why he was telling Tom this, it just came out.

Tom turned his neck too, staring out at the outline of the graveyard in the distance.

"Interesting." Curiosity dripping in his voice.

"What?" Young Voldemort was particularly on Harry's nerves at the moment.

"It's nothing that concerns you." Tom now turned to face Harry again, a smirk painted over his thin lips. 

"Can you stop being so damn cryptic?" Harry was fed up, no longer feeling particularly afraid anymore. It was like Tom said, this is just a dream, he wasn't actually talking to Tom Riddle, right?

Tom got up and walked out of Harry's line of sight. Harry rolled his eyes, he wanted nothing more than to wake up and leave this musty house. A moment later Tom re-appeared in front of Harry, once again assuming a cross-legged position, except he was holding an ancient-looking book. Harry felt a particularly large stab of despising hit him, because of Tom, both Ginny and Harry had almost died.

"That your new diary?" Harry couldn't help but smirk.

Annoyance flooded the brown-haired boy's face. Harry watched as he took a deep breath, obviously trying to regain his composure. 

"No, you made sure I wasn't getting that back, this is the history of Salazar Slytherin."

"Sounds awful." 

"I wouldn't expect your simple mind to grasp the importance of remembering where we come from." Tom glanced down at his wristwatch. "I do believe it is time for you to wake up, I expect I'll see you soon." Voldemort's devilish smile was the last thing Harry saw before his eyes flew open. Back in his own bed, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he had actually been talking to Voldemort and not a figment of his imagination.


	8. music and merpeople

Harry had refrained from telling Ron and Hermione about his dream of Tom Riddle. Not wanting to deal with their concerned glances but more importantly, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that it hadn't been a dream at all and he had actually been talking to a teenage Voldemort. A shudder went through Harry as he tried to forget the older boy's dark eyes that seemed to peer deep into Harry's soul. 

Harry knew he would need to see Dumbledore. His internal battle of not wanting to be a burden, yet not wanting to keep anything that could be important from Dumbledore was coming to an end. He needed Dumbledore's reassurance that he wasn't losing his sanity and these dreams were silly, the result of an overactive imagination. Unfortunately, Harry had never prided himself on his imagination, considering everything he had been through, for him it had been best to solely focus on the present and not what could be. Mentally Harry made a note to see if Dumbledore was around later, for now, he could put all his energy into seeing if Moody was right about the egg. 

Zipping up his coat, Harry exited the Gryffindor common room through the portrait hole. Harry had thought about showering with the egg, but then he remembered Cedric's words of having to submerge the egg. The bathtubs were to shallow for Harry to both submerge the egg and his head. Not able to use the shower or tub Harry went with his next idea, guaranteed it was a stupid idea, but nevertheless it was Harry's only idea. 

The Black Lake never froze over. At first, this surprised Harry but then the realization that the lake itself probably had magical properties, had soothed Harry's curiosity. With the egg under one arm, Harry made his way to the edge of the lake. Kneeling on the snow-covered ground, Harry rolled up his sleeves. The knowledge that the water was always freezing didn't make it any better as Harry plunged the egg into the water. Unclasping the latch the egg opened, but to Harry's surprise it didn't scream, rather it sounded like it was singing. Lowering his head into the murky water's Harry listened to the egg's melodic song.

"𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴; 𝘸𝘦'𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳-𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬." 

Harry felt dizzy from lack of oxygen as he lifted his head out from the frigid water. Now partially soaked, he hurried back to his dorm where he copied down the eggs song word for word. 

"Bloody hell! Did you go for a swim with your clothes on?" Ron approached Harry, who was still clutching the egg tightly to his chest.  
"The egg, I figured out how to open it." Harry ran a hand through it wet hair, pushing it out of his face.

"That's great! How did you do it? What did it say?" Ron seemed heavily invested with anything regarding the second task.

"I submerged it in the lake and put my head under. It sang to me, although its song wasn't very straight forward, it was more like a riddle if anything." Harry said as he stripped out of his wet clothes and put on dry ones. 

Harry read the song aloud to Ron, who seemed just as confused as Harry had.

"What lives in the lake beside the giant squid and grindylow's? There's bound to be other creatures, the lake is massive. I bet Hermione would know!" Ron's face beamed with excitement.

"Good idea, let's start there." 

Ron and Harry made their way to the common room, where they found Hermione seated in an armchair.

"Hermione, Harry opened the egg!" Ron announced as they sat down on the sofa adjacent to her. 

Hermione put her book down and looked at Harry, her eyes glistening with surprise.

"That's amazing Harry! What did you learn from it?" 

Harry repeated the riddle to Hermione, silently hoping she could decipher more from it than he and Ron could.

"Hmm, well obviously it has something to do with the Black Lake, my best guess would be that something you hold dear is going to be taken to the lake and the task will be to get it back." 

"I had figured that much out, do you know any creatures that live in the lake? It would make the task more challenging if something was guarding whatever they're taking from us."

"The Selkies are the most dangerous creature living in the lake, at least from what I've read about," Hermione spoke, a look of determination plastered on her face as if she was trying to recall everything she had ever learned about the lake. 

"What's a Selkie?" Ron and Harry exchanged a confused look.

"They're more commonly referred to as Merpeople, they live at the bottom of the lake. There isn't much known about their culture and traditions other than that they speak Mermish and their relationship to wizardkind seems to be pretty rocky." 

"Fantastic," Harry muttered quietly. Hopefully, the merpeople in the lake were the exception to disliking wizards.

"I think we should start with seeing what spells would allow you to be underwater for an hour and try to learn as much as possible about the lake." 

"Does Cedric know about the clue?" Ron asked curiously.

"Yeah, he actually told me how to open it, if it wasn't for him I'm not sure what I would do," Harry spoke sheepishly, feeling immense gratitude towards Cedric. "I'm gonna try to meet up with him this week, I bet he's already figured out what he's gonna do." 

"Your training, how has it been going with him?" Ron's mention of Cedric seemed to have piqued Hermione's curiosity. 

"Actually really well, I don't think I was in this good of shape even during Quidditch. Cedric, he's very knowledgeable and patient, he makes being in this tournament almost enjoyable. I hope he wins, he deserves it." A smile broke over Harry's chapped lips. Cedric truly deserved to win.

"I'm happy for you, I think it's good for both of you, you know not having to face these tasks alone," Hermione spoke softly.

"Yeah, I think it's good too, I just hope we both make it through the tournament unscathed."   
-  
Harry's hand was on the door to the Room of Requirements, about to turn the knob when he stopped. The soft melodic hum of the piano could be heard through the wooden door. Not wanting to disturb Cedric, Harry pressed his ear against the door and closed his eyes. It occurred to Harry that he had never heard someone play the piano in person, in fact, he had rarely ever heard the piano being played at all. The soft melody could be compared to a gentle rain on a warm evening. Despite having no memory of his childhood before the Dursley's, the music reminded him of his parents. He liked to imagine that they too found comfort in each note, it made Harry feel closer to them. God, he missed them.

Quietly opening the door, Harry was greeted by the sight of Cedric hunched over the piano. His eyes were closed and his hands were moving as if they needed no direction from his brain, like gently tapping the black and white keys was as easy and automatic as breathing. Harry was relieved that is arrival hadn't disturbed Cedric's concentration, as the older boy continued playing. Entranced by the beautiful harmony he was creating, Harry sat down and closed his eyes, engrossed in the melody. It seemed as if time had stopped, since Harry had entered the room, to sitting on the ground, as Cedric struck the final note. He opened his eyes, a surprised look on his face at the sight of Harry.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you come in." Cedric stood up from the piano and moved to where Harry was sitting on the floor. 

"I've never heard you play before, you're brilliant!" Harry had been so absorbed in Cedric's playing, his mind felt almost blank. 

A slight blush rose on Cedric's cheeks. "Thanks, I've never played for anybody except my dad before, it means a lot."

"You were fantastic, you should consider a career in it!" Harry remembered Cedric's words of wanting to make a path out of the piano but wasn't sure if it was the right choice. 

"You're too kind Harry," Cedric gave him a soft smile. "Did you ever learn how to play an instrument?"

Harry almost laughed, the thought about the Dursley's allowing Harry anything outside the most basic necessities was absurd. "No, but I like to think if my parents were still alive they would have taught me though. My aunt and uncle aren't really the musical type." 

"After this tournament is finished, I could teach you if you liked it? I think you would be a natural!" Cedric's words were incredibly sincere.

"Yeah, I would love that." Harry smiled at Cedric.

Cedric beamed at Harry as if he would rather do nothing else besides teaching Harry how to play the piano. 

"Although I could talk about the piano all day, we should focus on the egg, the second task will be upon us before we know it, did you open yours?

"Yeah, I'm guessing yours told you the same cryptic message about taking something we care about?" Harry placed his egg on the ground. "I think it's something to do with the Merpeople, well anyway that's what Hermione thought and she's usually right." 

"Yeah, I was thinking something similar, I think the main challenge of the task is devising a way to breathe under the water for an hour." Cedric stood up and grabbed a stack of books he had placed under the piano bench. "I grabbed these from the library." He spread three different books on the ground.

Harry picked up one titled "Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean", the fact that the word water was in the title had grabbed Harry's attention. 

"I think our best bet is finding any spells or potions relating to oxygen and surviving underwater for prolonged periods of time." Cedric picked up one of the books he had placed in front of Harry. "Like what we did regarding the history of the tournament, I found a book on the Black Lake, maybe skimming through it will give us some insight." He shrugged as he handed the book to Harry. 

To Harry's relief, the book wasn't very long. Though both Cedric and Hermione were right about learning everything they could about the lake, Harry's main concern was about not drowning. It had just occurred to Harry that he had never taken proper swimming lessons. 

"Er Cedric, I just realized I don't know how to swim." Panic rushed through Harry, how was he even going to attempt this challenge if he couldn't properly swim. 

"I'll teach you! It's not very hard, besides for this task we just need to get to the bottom of the lake without drowning so I don't think the technique will be very important." 

Cedric's words slightly eased Harry's anxiety, but going to the bottom of the lake was much simpler said than done. 

"Let's meet by the lake tomorrow morning, you're gonna be a fantastic swimmer in no time!"  
-  
Harry wasn't sure what to wear to swim in the middle of winter, a wet suit seemed like his best option, but he was positive nobody in the magical community knew what a wetsuit was. Throwing on a pair of shorts, Harry wrapped a towel around his bare torse, there was no need to wear more clothing than was necessary. Finally making his way to the shore of the lake, he was relieved to see Cedric already waiting for him. 

"Long time no see," Cedric greeted him, wearing a pair of yellow and black swimming shorts. 

"I've never wished it was summer more in my life," Harry spoke as he placed his towel on the rocky ground. 

"Yeah, it's a bit cold, but considering we're going to have to swim in here again in a month we best get used to it." Cedric shrugged off his shirt and began walking towards the dark water.

"You don't think anything is going to attack us, right?" Harry felt a newfound awareness of what magical creature's considered the Black Lake their home.

"I've never encountered any besides the occasional visit from the giant squid, but he's friendly. All of the other creatures live in the deepest part of the lake, which we won't be going near until the task." 

Despite Cedric's reassurance, the mention of the giant squid made Harry shiver, maybe he should have spent more time paying attention in care of magical creatures. 

"The simplest, yet in my opinion, the most important technique you need to know to master the art of swimming is how to tread water. Treading water is what you do when you cannot touch the bottom but are tired of swimming, you use both your arms and legs." Cedric moved closer to the lake, allowing for the tide to splash his feet. "Now watch the movement my arms make."

Cedric proceeded to move his arms in a circular movement, almost as if he were a DJ scratching records. 

"While you move your arms like so, you are going to want to gently kick your feet in the water. Now watch my movement in the water." Cedric slowly walked into the lake.

Harry moved closer to the lake, feeling his whole body cringe as his feet met the icy waters. Cedric dove under the water, but only for a moment before his head resurfaced. Harry could see the faintest outline of his arms as his head bobbed above the water. Cedric continued treading water as he called to Harry.

"Now it's your turn!"

Harry's feet were numb, it felt like he was wearing shoes made of concrete as he slowly made his way into the lake. The depth of the lake changed abruptly, soon the water was up to his neck. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, Harry thought to himself encouragingly. With another step, Harry's head was submerged. Remembering Cedric's movements Harry began kicking his feet which propelled his head to the surface. His arm movements resembled more of a panic flailing, but nevertheless they did the trick and kept his head above the water.

"Fantastic! You're doing amazing Harry." 

Harry was too preoccupied with trying not to drown to answer Cedric. His arms and legs were burning, he had the feeling it would be easier to tread water if the water was much warmer. Harry heard splashing and out of the corner of his eye saw Cedric coming towards him. 

"It's probably not healthy to stay in this cold water longer than necessary." 

Harry felt Cedric's hand grasp his arm and lightly pulled him until his feet could touch the bottom. Letting out a sigh of relief, both boys made their way back to shore.

"I think at this rate you'll master the art of swimming ages before the second task," Cedric said as he wrapped himself in his towel and slipped his shoes back on. 

Harry felt exhausted from the cold water as they quickly made their way back to the castle. Silently Harry hoped that the second task wouldn't be as life-threatening as battling a dragon.


	9. Ay yo look like i'm goin' for a swim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:  
> \- Let's be real if Cedric lived he would have been a barb no question  
> \- since my classes have started I'm going to be a bit less active but nevertheless I will still try to update as often as possible, hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Cedric was right, the second task was upon them before they knew it. Despite figuring out the egg’s clue a month earlier, both Harry and Cedric had struggled to find any information regarding being underwater for an hour and not drowning. Evenings usually spent in front of a cozy fire in the comfort of Gryffindor tower were now spent desperately scouring the library. It unnerved Harry how Cedric’s calm demeanor was cracking as he too appeared to be just as stressed as Harry. Dully, Harry wondered if Fleur and Krum were struggling just as much as they were. He severely doubted it.

With seven days remaining until they would be forced into the icy waters of the Black Lake, Harry had only found one lead that appeared promising. He had come across Gillyweed after skimming through "Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean". According to the book, Gillyweed allowed the consumer to not only breathe underwater but develop gills and webbing between their fingers and toes, permitting them to move with ease in the water. At first glance, Harry was beyond thrilled, but a closer look revealed that Gillyweed was both incredibly rare to find on its own and even more complex to make, and the slightest mistake would prevent it from properly working. Considering he was almost failing in potions and herbology; Harry knew that he himself did not possess the skills required to properly make it. Despite sharing his discovery with Cedric, Cedric also appeared unconfident in his abilities to successfully make or find Gillyweed. The only people who came to mind with the ability to successfully prepare Gillyweed or who would have any lying around were Hermione and Snape. The thought of asking Hermione to drop everything and make it sent a wave of guilt over Harry. This whittled his options down to either asking Snape for help or praying he discovered a more reliable option. 

Across from Harry, Cedric was resting his head in his hands, gently snoring. He looked incredibly peaceful. Not wanting to wake him, Harry scribbled on a note that he was going to talk to Snape and would probably be back soon. Grabbing his bag Harry slowly made his way to the dungeon where Snape’s office resided. Part of Harry could not believe he was desperate enough to even consider that Snape would give Harry an ounce of his time, while the other part of him was preparing for the potion master’s side remarks. Lightly knocking on his door, Harry silently prayed that Snape was not there, with every passing second drowning was looking more and more appealing. To Harry’s dismay, the door opened. 

“Potter, what an unpleasant surprise.” Snape set down the book he was reading, his dark eye’s drilling into Harry’s.

“Sir, I have a question about an ingredient, I was wondering if you had it.” Harry forced himself to meet Snape’s glare.

Snape looked unamused. “Even if I did have this mysterious ingredient you speak of, why would I give it to you?”

Unsure of how to answer Snape’s question, Harry paused a moment before speaking. “Gillyweed, I was wondering about Gillyweed.” 

“And why would you need Gillyweed?” Snape’s eye’s bore into Harry’s as if he already knew why Harry was asking about Gillyweed but wanted to watch him suffer.

It took every ounce of Harry’s strength to not reply with some sarcastic remark. “I’m going for a swim in the Black Lake and I don’t want to drown, sir.” 

“Do you think I’m stupid, Potter? I know you’re trying to get help for your next task, which I may add is prohibited. Since you even asked, forty points from Gryffindor.”

Harry fought the urge to scream in frustration. What did he ever do to Snape that made him hate him so much? He was certain that if Malfoy was in his shoes and asked for Gillyweed, he would give it to him in a heartbeat. 

“Forget I asked,” Harry muttered as he turned towards the door, not wanting to linger longer than necessary in the dim room.

“Wait.” 

Harry nearly fell over in surprise, was Snape going to help him? Spinning back around, he watched as Snape moved behind his desk where he opened a dusty looking jar. 

“As much as I want you to drown, I think it would reflect poorly not supporting the Hogwarts champions. Nevertheless, never ask me for anything again.” Snape placed what appeared to be a grey slimy clump in Harry’s hand.

“Thank you, professor.” Harry quickly exited the dungeons, not believing his luck, maybe the universe didn’t completely hate him? Racing back to the library, Harry was surprised to see Cedric was awake.

“How long have you been gone for?” Cedric asked as he rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted.

“Not more than ten minutes, did you just wake up?” Harry put his bag down and sat down next to Cedric, who was still surrounded by books.

“Yeah, but you’ll never guess what just happened. I fell asleep in the middle of reading “Extreme Incantations”, but when I woke up I think I found the perfect spell for the task!” 

“What spell is it?” Out of all of the books he had read, he hadn’t come across a single spell or charm that would suffice for diving to the bottom of the Black Lake.

“It’s called the Bubble-Head charm, it allows for the user to have an unlimited supply of oxygen, I think we didn’t find it earlier because we were looking for spells relating to survival underwater rather than specifically breathing under the water.” Cedric pointed to the spell.

“That’s fantastic Ced!” Harry smiled at him. “The strangest thing just happened to me,” Harry explained his encounter with Snape to Cedric, who seemed impressed.

“I bet it’s out of spite towards Karkaroff, he sounded awfully annoyed with him when he heard them talking during the dance.” 

Whatever Snape’s reasons for giving him Gillyweed were, Harry didn’t care, he was just happy that he could take a break from constantly worrying about how he was going to survive the approaching task.

-  
Somehow Harry felt more nervous than he had on the morning of the first task. Maybe it was because it hadn't truly occurred to Harry that he had to actually compete, but he had a feeling it was because there was much more to fear in the Black Lake than there was with a single dragon. Harry had awoken two hours before he needed to, feeling both exhausted and terrified. On his bed, he had found a pair of black and maroon swimming trunks and a tank top bearing the Gryffindor lion, at least he would appear put together on the outside. Not wanting to stay in his dormitory any longer, Harry changed and wrapped his Gryffindor robes around himself, trying to preserve his body heat. Harry had a strong feeling that Cedric was probably awake by now, making his way down to the Great Hall he was greeted by the sight of Cedric sitting alone at the Hufflepuff table. He felt his nerves ease slightly as he sat across from him.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, grabbing a piece of toast.

“You know, excited but nervous.” Cedric took a sip of his coffee and anxiously tapped his fingers against the wooden table. 

“Yeah, I’m feeling the same, maybe more nervous than excited.” Harry couldn’t wait until the task was over and became a distant memory. As thankful as he was for the opportunity to become friends with Cedric, he truly didn’t want to jump in the Black Lake during the coldest month of the year. 

A kind voice brought Harry out of his brooding thoughts.

“Mr. Diggory, Mr. Potter, I know you both are going to make our school very proud today.” Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he spoke to Harry and Cedric.

“Thank you, Professor, it means a lot.” Cedric smiled at their headmaster. 

“Thanks, sir.” Harry's words came out softer than he had intended, but nevertheless he was glad for Dumbledore’s unwavering support.

Harry and Cedric remained sitting in silence, each boy absorbed in mentally preparing for what they were about to face. It dawned on Harry that he hadn’t seen Ron in his bed when he woke up, nor Hermione in the common room last night. Harry had been caught up in his own anxiety to notice. He couldn’t really do much about them now considering he had to head down to the lake soon. As students began trickling into the Great Hall, Harry felt as if he may be sick, at the moment battling the basilisk seemed more appealing than competing in this task.

“I need to grab my robe, want to come with me?” Cedric stood up and motioned for Harry to follow. 

“Sure.” Harry was relieved for Cedric’s offer, not wanting to stay in the crowded Great Hall any longer than he had to be. 

As they made their way to the Hufflepuff dormitory, it dawned on Harry that he had never seen the inside of their house. Despite walking Cedric to his dorm some nights, Harry had never paid much attention, he wondered if it was nicer than Gryffindor common room. Standing outside the Hufflepuff common room, Cedric tapped a rhythm that distinctly sounded like Helga Hufflepuff into a wooden barrel which in turn shifted to the side, revealing a wooden door.

“Do you not have a portrait guarding your entrance?” Harry asked mildly confused. 

“Nah, we use this barrel and instead of saying a password out loud, we tap it into the barrel. Keeps intruders out all the same.” Cedric shrugged as he opened the door, allowing Harry to go in first.

The Hufflepuff common room was incredibly cozy, it’s stone walls were a warm yellow, reminding Harry of the sunflowers Aunt Petunia sometimes planted in her garden. Flower's lined the windowsills and mantelpiece, causing the room to smell like lilac, despite it being Harry’s first time in the Hufflepuff house, he already felt strangely at home. Shuffling to Cedric’s room, Harry was greeted with the same homey atmosphere, the four-poster beds in the room were all covered with large yellow patchwork quilts. Cedric reached into his trunk and pulled out his black and yellow Hufflepuff robes and wrapped them around himself. 

“Ready to go for a swim?” Cedric no longer seemed nervous as he grinned at Harry.

-  
The walk down to the lake passed by much faster than Harry would have liked. The champions were instructed to arrive fifteen minutes before the task began, from the looks of it Harry and Cedric were the last to arrive, they were greeted by Dumbledore.

“Ah good, our final two champions have arrived, Mr. Bagman will now remind you of the rules surrounding this task.” With a gentle smile, Dumbledore motioned for Ludo Bagman to step forward.

“Good morning champions, as you know by now your task will take place in the lake. You will have one hour to find what is yours and return with it. You will be scored on the criteria of how fast you return, and creativity for what your method of surviving under the water. Any questions?” Bagman looked exhausted, silently Harry wondered where Barty Crouch was, it would have made more sense for him to explain the task since he was ranked higher in the ministry than Bagman.

Neither headmaster nor champion asked any questions. A gust of wind made Harry wrap his arms around his chest, desperately trying to keep what little warmth was there. 

“Very well, you will being on the shore and when the canon goes off you may enter the water.” 

Harry didn’t think he had ever experienced fifteen minutes pass by as quickly as these did. As students began filling the area surrounding the lake, Harry tried to look for Ron and Hermione to gain some last-minute reassurance but couldn’t find their faces. With minutes left, Harry shrugged off his robe and placed it by Cedric’s on the shore. He gave the Gillyweed a rough squeeze, making sure he had it on hand to swallow at the sound of the canon. 

“Goodluck Harry, I’ll see you once we’re back on land.” Cedric gave Harry a gentle pat on his arm.

“You to Ced.” The moment the words left his lips, Harry was greeted by the sound of the canon. 

Adrenaline filling his veins, Harry took off, sprinting through the ice-cold water as he shoved the Gillyweed in his mouth. It only took a moment before Harry began to feel its effects, he felt like he was choking as he frantically clawed at this throat. Harry dove under the water, it’s arctic temperature only affecting him a moment. His body seemed to conform to his new surroundings, looking down, Harry saw that his feet were no longer feet but looked as if they had formed into flippers, reaching a webbed hand to his neck, Harry felt that to his surprise there were now slits were water was seeping in and out. He had grown gills! Glancing down at his watch, he knew time wasn’t on his side and that the black lake was massive. Cedric’s words of whatever they were looking for being in the middle of the lake came to him, his best bet was to make it to the deepest part of the lake.

As Harry swam deeper and deeper, he realized that the lake was beautiful in its own ominous way. Nearing the bottom, he swam through a patch of seaweed, cringing as it brushed against his bare skin. Once free from the gangly weeds Harry was greeted by a sight that made his blood run cold, Merpeople. They were much uglier than the pictures Harry had seen had depicted them. Their skin was grey accompanied by long, green hair. As Harry appeared before them, they didn’t try to attack him, as he suspected they would, instead they simply watched him. Not knowing what do to, Harry waved at them as he passed by, they simply looked at him with interest. Making his way deeper into the lake, Harry was surprised to find the Merpeople following him, he was thankful they kept their distance. Distracted by the Merpeople's presence, Harry didn’t even realize he had found what he was looking for.

At the bottom of the lake, there were four people, it wasn’t until Harry got closer did he realize he recognized all of them. The person farthest to the left was Ron, next to him was Hermione, then Cho, and lastly Gabrielle, Fleur’s sister. Immediately swimming closer, Harry realized that they must all be under some sort of sleeping potion, as their eyes were closed and they all had a relaxed posture. Gently touching Ron’s face, Harry looked down and realized that his ankle was tethered to something he could not see. His mind felt blank as he tried to think of a spell to free him. Swimming to the very bottom, a jagged rock caught Harry’s eye. He began sawing at the rope that kept Ron from floating away, as he was cutting he realized he had no idea why Hermione was down here. Cho made sense since she went to the dance with Cedric, and Gabrielle was Fleur’s little sister. Unless Harry was supposed to grab Hemione instead of Ron, but then who was going to grab Ron? Just as he was almost done cutting Ron free, he saw Cedric swim to Cho. Harry watched as muttered a spell and freed Cho. Before he swam off he motioned to his watch.

“Hurry, we don’t have long!” Cedric’s voice was muffled under the water, but nevertheless Harry got the idea.

Frantically freeing Ron, he was about to start cutting Hermione free as a giant shark swam in front of him and grabbed the rope that held her and swam away. It wasn’t until Harry saw the shark’s feet did it dawn on him that Krum had used some sort of transfiguration to turn himself into a partial shark. Mildly disturbed but Krum’s missing item being Hermione, he was about to begin his ascent, when he caught a glimpse of Gabrielle, he couldn’t leave her here, not all alone at the bottom of the lake. With Ron in one hand, he swam towards her and began cutting her free. Once he was done he realized all of the Merpeople were watching him with great curiosity. Harry hadn’t realized how much harder it was to swim while carrying two people, it almost felt as if he was trying to bring cinderblocks to the surface. Moving at a painstakingly slow pace, Harry caught a glimpse of his hand, it was no longer webbed, nor were his feet. His hour must be up. Summoning what was left of his might, he flung Ron and Gabrielle towards the surface. As water filled his lungs, Harry tightly gripped is wand and whispered 𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘰. It wasn’t until his head burst through the water did he realized he had survived.

“Harry!” Ron cried out and grabbed Harry’s arm. 

Harry was so exhausted he could barely speak, and to make matters worse they were still quite a distance away from shore. Suddenly Harry remembered Gabrielle, quickly turning he saw the pale girl desperately trying to stay afloat, it was obvious she didn’t know how to swim.

“We have to help her.” Harry spat out as he and Ron each took one of the girl’s arms and lead her to shore, making sure her head stayed above the water. 

When the three of them arrived at the shore, they were greeted by excited cheers, Harry wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath and pass out for a few hours. Once standing on dry ground, Hermione pulled both him and Ron into a tight hug.

“Oh, thank god you’re okay! Both of you.” She exclaimed. Just as she let go of him, Harry was greeted by another, Cedric.

“Harry, you did fantastically! You saved two people!” Cedric roughly embraced Harry before handing him his dry robed.

It had hit Harry at that exact moment, he didn’t need to save two people, they weren’t actually going to die at the bottom of the lake.

“No, I thought I had to, I thought something bad would happen if I left them there. I’m an idiot.” Harry groaned as he wrapped the dry cloth around himself. 

Just as Cedric was going to respond, Dumbledore’s voice echoed through the crowd. 

“Ladies, and Gentlemen, the judges are ready to announce the scores for the second task in the Triwizard tournament. In first place is Mr. Cedric Diggory, who finished just past the hour and used the bubblehead charm.

The crowd erupted in excited screams at the announcement of Cedric’s name. 

“Congrats, Ced! You deserve this.” Harry felt happy for Cedric despite his own dreadful performance. If anyone were to win this bloody tournament, he hoped it would be Cedric.

“The judged have decided to award second place to Mr. Harry Potter, who despite finishing way past the hour, exemplified incredible bravery as he decided to rescue not only Mr. Weasley but also Ms. Delacour.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he finished in dead last and was getting a second place? 

“Congrats Harry!” Cedric spoke excitedly as he placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I think Hogwarts has got this tournament in the bag this year, no question!” 

Suddenly Harry’s silly daydreams of winning the tournament didn’t appear to be so unrealistic. With his second-place finish, he was now tied for first place overall with Cedric. Maybe Cedric was right in that Hogwarts would be victorious no matter what.


	10. Maybe I'm lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update, college is kicking my ass lmao. I'm gonna aim to update this at least once a week as I get back into the routine of school because I'm currently a bit overwhelmed. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!!

Harry was still in awe over his second-place finish, for the first time in months could he finally take a break from stressing over the tournament. The third task was not until June and would be revealed to the champions in March. Harry had been so preoccupied with the second task, it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. With one task remaining, Harry could hardly believe this tournament was almost over. Despite successfully completing both tasks so far, Harry could not shake the feeling that something grim was on the horizon. 

On top of everything, his dreams had only been getting more vexing. Every night since the Yule Ball, Tom Riddle had become a central part of Harry’s dreams. He often appeared to be bored, as if Harry was the last person he wanted to talk to, sometimes he didn’t speak at all, simply watching Harry struggle to wake up and return to the comfort of his bed. Often, he took pleasure in making cruel remarks about Harry, at first, they stung, but soon lost their edge. But tonight, was different, tonight the youngest Riddle appeared to be in a shockingly pleasant mood. 

“Hello Harry, how was your swim?” The dark-haired boy was sitting in a leather armchair, facing Harry.

For the first time since these dreams began, Harry was no longer sitting on the floor, instead, he was sitting across from Tom, also in a large armchair. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, Harry thought dully.

“How do you know what I did today?” Harry asked sharply, knowing Tom was not going to give him anything but a straightforward answer. 

Voldemort shrugged as he folded his hands to rest on his lap. “Even if I did tell you, we both know you’re too thick to understand even the simplest concepts, trust me I’ve seen your grades.”

Harry could not help but roll his eyes, the older boy was partially right, Harry’s grades were far from perfect at the moment, but he was working on fixing that. 

“Shut up.” Harry’s voice was cold, his patience was wearing especially thin tonight. 

“I simply asked you a question Harry, you would do well to answer it.”

“My swim was fantastic, nothing like jumping in the Black Lake during the coldest month of the year.” Harry shot back at him. 

Riddle seemed pleased with Harry’s response. “As much as I hate to say it, I think you have a shot at winning.” 

At this, Harry looked up at Tom. “Why do you care how I do in this bloody tournament, I would think you would be hoping for my ultimate demise.” Questioned Harry. 

Ignoring Harry's question, the dark-haired boy stood up. “I mean your competition is pathetic, Krum appears to be nothing more than a meathead, the French girl is about as much of a threat as a first-year, and that Hufflepuff boy is far too kind. Don’t get me wrong, you are also pathetic, but you seem to get lucky.” 

“Lucky? You think I’m going to win because I’m lucky? What does that even mean.” 

The boy shrugged again as moved towards the window. “The only reason you’ve survived this long is because of luck, you got lucky when we met in your first year, and you most certainly got lucky when you destroyed my diary.” He paused, appearing to be fixated on something outside the window. “I think you may get lucky in this tournament but believe me when I say your luck is bound to run out soon.”

His word’s penetrated Harry’s skin deeper than he would have liked. 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺? 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨? Harry racked his brain for any sort of retort but came up empty. He had no idea how to respond to Tom.

Ignoring Harry’s silence, Tom kept talking. “You’re a fool Harry Potter, and you will lose everything.” His voice was almost a whisper. 

Harry felt anger rise inside of him. How dare this figment in his dreams taunt him? 

“Go away, Tom.” His voice was cracked, rather than sounding strong. 

The boy only laughed, as if what Harry had said was the funniest thing he had ever said. It was unnerving. 

“GO AWAY!” Harry was now screaming, he didn’t care anymore, he didn’t ever want to see Tom Riddle’s face ever again. 

When Harry opened his eyes, he was no longer trapped in the oversized armchair, instead, he was being shaken awake by none other than Ron.

“Harry! Harry, are you alright?” Ron both looked and sounded worried.

Confused Harry sat up and looked around. He was safe, Tom wasn’t real, he was just having a nightmare. 

“Yeah, I’m fine just a bad dream that’s all.” His throat burned and head ached.

“You sure? You were screaming at something to go away.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” With that Ron gave him one last worried look before returning to his own bed. Harry knew that he was going to have to pay Dumbledore visit weather he wanted to or not.

-

Shrugging his bookbag over his shoulder, Harry began his begrudgingly slow walk to Dumbledore’s office. Hoping the password hadn’t changed since his last visit, Harry began to organize his thoughts, he knew he would have to tell Dumbledore everything.

“Hey, Harry!” A kind voice rang out through the empty corridor.

Spinning around, Harry was surprised to see Cedric jogging towards him. “Hey Ced, what are you doing here?” The only reason Harry ever came to the Headmaster’s tower was to see Dumbledore. 

“I was actually looking for you, I saw you leaving the Great Hall and hoped to catch you.” 

“Oh, what did you want to see me for?” Harry felt his curiosity grow, he and Cedric had already planned their next training session to be in two weeks, since both decided a break from anything tournament related would do them well. 

“Some friends in Hufflepuff are planning a celebration since Hogwarts is in the lead, I wanted to see if you wanted to come!” Cedric’s voice held genuine excitement.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on any celebration your house is planning?” 

Cedric appeared taken back. “Of course, I want you to come! You’re just as much Hogwarts champion as I am.” 

He was right. Even though Harry had felt nothing more than an imposter, it was true, he and Cedric had faced and overcome the same dangers. “Yeah, you’re right, I would be happy to come.” Harry managed a tired smile.

“Fantastic! Come to the Hufflepuff common room tomorrow night and feel free to bring as many friends as you want.” With one last grin, Cedric was gone, leaving Harry alone on the corridor. 

Approaching the Headmaster’s office, Harry muttered ‘acid pops’ to the tall stone gargoyle, feeling relieved as it turned to allow him passage. Moments after softly knocking on the old wooden door, it opened relieving Dumbledore hunched over at his desk, engrossed in something that appeared important. 

“Good evening Harry,” Dumbledore responded kindly, looking up from his papers and straightening his posture. 

“Good evening, professor. Sorry to interrupt your work, I wouldn’t bother you unless it was important” The room was quiet except for the soft coos from Fawkes the phoenix. 

“It is no bother; I enjoy your company. Once again congratulations on your performance in the second task, you behaved most admirably.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke.

Harry debated telling Dumbledore the only reason he decided to save Fleur’s sister was that he interpreted the clue to literally but decided against it. “Thank you, sir, it means a lot.” 

“So, what has been troubling you, Harry?”

“Well, I’ve bee having dreams, but they don’t seem like dreams. Obviously, they aren’t happening in real life, but something about them just feels off, like they’re trying to tell me something.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry curiously. “What specifically are you dreaming of?” 

“Voldemort sir.”

At this, the older man looked up from his desk directly at Harry. He didn’t show any outright emotion, but Harry could tell he wanted to hear what Harry had to say next. 

“The first dream I had was around Christmas, I was in an old house that looked like it hadn’t been lived in for some time. I was sitting on the floor, but I couldn’t move. I thought I was alone until I heard a voice and saw his face. It was Voldemort, he looked exactly like he did when I destroyed the diary in the chamber. The way he talked to me, it was like he knew everything about me, I know that’s impossible, but I can’t shake the feeling. Just last night, when I was dreaming, he was talking to me about the tournament.” Harry felt almost out of breath, the words had seemed to fall out of his mouth as he remembered sitting across from sixteen-year-old Voldemort. 

“I do believe dreams are important, but it’s often best we don’t dwell on them.” 

“But sir, what if it is important!” Harry was feeling is frustration grow, while he had expected Dumbledore to say something along these lines, he couldn’t help but feeling his stomach sink.

“I believe your dreams are important, Harry. Does your scar hurt when you wake up from these dreams?” Dumbledore stood up from his desk and moved across the room.

“Yes, sometimes more than others.” Harry swiveled his body to face the Headmaster. 

“I have long believed there to be a connection of sorts between you and Voldemort, it would make sense if it had to do with your scar.” 

“Do you think he’s going to come back, sir?” Despite asking this question, Harry was already well aware of the answer. 

“Things are appearing to be similar now, compared to when he first rose to power.” Dumbledore’s voice was soft. “I think it best if you continue to keep track of your dreams, but Harry, as I said before its best not to dwell on these things longer than necessary.”

-

Harry’s meeting with Dumbledore made him feel worse than he had in a long while. While he trusted the Headmaster's judgment and wisdom, there was no way he couldn’t dwell on his dreams, especially when Dumbledore practically told him it was inevitable for Voldemort to return. Despite it being late, sleeping was the last thing Harry wanted to do, he was convinced if he saw Tom’s face there would be nothing restraining himself from physically attacking the older boy. Harry hadn’t realized it until recently, but he missed having normal dreams that didn’t cause him to wake up drenched in his own sweat. 

The cold night air drifted into the empty corridor, it felt refreshing. It had been a while since Harry had wandered the castle this late at night. He remembered the first time he had ever gotten caught out of bed after hours, Professor McGonagall had been furious and took one hundred and fifty points away from Gryffindor and gave Harry detention. Ironically, this detention had caused him to have his first encounter with Voldemort since he was a baby. Harry shivered at the memory of professor Quirrell’s limp body bent over a dead unicorn. What a way to begin his first year. 

Harry found himself thinking of Voldemort, it seemed like there were two of him, a body-less, weak Voldemort somewhere plotting his return to power, and then there was the human teenage version that plagued Harry’s dreams. It seemed strange that they were the same people, and that sooner rather than later they would become one again. Pushing the thought out of his brain, Harry made his way back to his dormitory where he found his roommates asleep. The same jealousy he felt the morning he bumped into Cedric returned to him, it wasn’t fair that they could just sleep when Voldemort was on the rise. They weren’t the ones he would try to kill. When he inevitably returned, they wouldn’t have to worry, or at least not as Harry did. Crawling into bed, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling he was on borrowed time. 

The next morning Harry awoke to feel as if he hadn’t slept at all. He spent most of the night tossing and turning, only to be greeted with the smug face of Tom Riddle. Luckily, he was not in a very talkative mood, and the dream past quickly. Harry found himself simultaneously dreading but also looking forward to the Hufflepuff celebration. It turned out Harry didn’t need to tell anybody about it; everybody already knew. Ron seemed thrilled about it while Hermione appeared skeptical. 

“Are you sure you should go, Harry? What if it gets busted and you and Cedric both get in trouble?” Hermione gave Harry a stern look as she spread butter on her toast.

“Lighten up Hermione, you worry too much,” Ron spoke as he took a sip of juice. 

“Last time I checked being a caring friend didn’t count as worrying.”

At this Ron rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure it will be fine, if you are worried, we don’t have to stay long.” Harry gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’m not going, I have too much homework.” She seemed flustered and immediately changed the subject. “Have you learned what the third task is yet?” 

Harry wanted to ask her what was wrong but knew it would most likely only make her angry. “No, I don’t find out for a couple of weeks, I’m not that worried about it yet.”

This time Hermione was the one to roll her eyes. “It’s amazing you haven't actually died yet.”

Harry smirked. “Luck just seems to be on my side.”

Unfortunately, luck did not remain on Harry Potter’s side. Everything had started out fantastic, everyone was thrilled that Harry and Cedric were tied for first place. Student’s Harry had never seen before drunkenly swayed up to him and asked him for his autograph, not knowing what else to do Harry obliged. It was the most fun Harry had had in a long time. He felt blissfully dizzy as he took a sip of his punch. While it was not the first time Harry had drunk in his life, it was the first time he had ever been drunk. As the music blasted, Harry happily swayed where he stood.

“I’m so glad you’re in this tournament, I can’t imagine competing alone.” Cedric looked flushed as he spoke to Harry.

“If it wasn’t for you, I would be dead!” Harry said excitedly, continuing to sway to the music.

“You’re too kind.” Cedric copied Harry’s movements and began swaying to. Together the two Hogwarts champions swayed in silence as if they were the only people in the room. It was a euphoric sight. 

Harry was not sure if ten minutes or an hour had passed before he heard somebody scream “RUN!” 

Snapping open his eyes he saw Cedric also appearing like a deer in headlights. Before he could even process what was happening, he felt Cedric grab his wrist and pull him along. 

“We can’t get caught; I don’t want them to be angry.” Despite Cedric’s words not making a complete scene, Harry got the idea. The other judges would probably demand some punishment of both Harry and Cedric if they got caught. While Harry himself didn’t really care, he couldn’t let anything happen to Cedric. Before he knew it, they somehow made it out of the Hufflepuff common room and were nearing a broom closet. Harry was amazed at Cedric’s navigation skills in his inebriated state. With the flick of his wand, the door opened, revealing an empty broom closet.

“If we’re quiet they won’t find us in here.”

“Alright,” was all Harry could say as he crawled into the small closet and curled up. Feeling strangely at home as he fell asleep next to Cedric.


	11. If it's Crouch I'll give you a galleon

Sunday passed by in a hungover blur. Waking up cramped broom closet with his head pressed into Cedric’s shoulder, Harry pieced together the events that led him here. He had gone to Dumbledore seeking both answers and comfort yet got none. This provoked anger, Voldemort was on the rise and there was nothing Harry could do but wait for his inevitable return. His return meant death for Harry. It was the thought of his own demise that spurred his drunken escape to this broom closet. Ironically it was the absence of demise that lead him to the broom closet which he called home for the first eleven years of his life. 

The stir of Cedric brought Harry out of his thoughts. With a groan the brown-haired boy pushed himself up into a sitting position, facing Harry.

“I feel like shit, I really do take my mattress for granted.” Despite his deeply sunken eyes; Cedric managed a soft smile as he spoke.

Harry shrugged as he rested his head against the wall. “My first bedroom was a broom closet.” 

“You’re kidding?” Genuine surprised flashed across the Hufflepuff’s face.

“Nope. My aunt and uncle were keen on pretending I didn’t exist; therefore, I didn’t get a bedroom until I was twelve.” Harry had never realized how horrible his childhood was until he spoke the words aloud. 

“That’s awful Harry, do you still live with them?”

“As of now, but I’m trying to stay with my Godfather this summer so hopefully I can get away from them soon.” The thought of living with Sirius made Harry smile, he truly wanted nothing more.

Cedric brushed his hair out of his eyes as he spoke. “If it doesn’t work out with your Godfather this summer, you’re always welcome at my place with dad and me. We would be happy to have you.”

“Really?” Harry felt taken back, after hearing a single story from Harry’s childhood Cedric had already invited him to stay with his family. It was a gentle reminder to Harry, that no matter how awful things seemed, there would always be people like Cedric, shedding light in an otherwise bleak world. 

“Of course, you’re my friend Harry.”

As Harry made his way down to the dining hall alongside Cedric, he couldn’t help but feel unwavering gratitude towards the older boy. It was then Harry realize if it came down to the two of them in the third task, he would let Cedric win.  
-  
The next two weeks were remarkably calm. Harry had managed to catch up on much of his homework, and even brought up his potion grade which he was most proud of. Overall, things were looking up for Harry, and since he was a participant in the tournament he was exempt from all his final exams, so his only academic worry fell to staying on top of his assignments. For the first time all year, Harry did not feel particularly stressed about anything, including the third task. As he made his way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, he wondered what the third task would be. It couldn’t be anything 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 life-threatening if they were simply being told the clue by either Barty Crouch or Ludo Bagman. Right? 

“It’ll probably be Ludo Bagman,” Harry muttered aloud, trying to remember the last time he even saw Barty Crouch. Nobody else appeared to be concerned over his disappearance, so why should Harry? As much as he tried to ignore it, his absence didn’t sit right with Harry. 

“What about Ludo Bagman, Potter?” Professor Moody’s voice drew Harry out of his thoughts. 

“Nothing sir, I was just thinking out loud about the third task.” Harry made his way to his desk as students slowly trickled into the classroom. 

Moody held an unreadable expression as he made his way to the front of the class. “The final task, do you know anything about it yet?” He seemed curious, despite already knowing what the task was since teachers played a role in organizing them. 

“Not yet, sir, we find out in a couple of weeks when a ministry official tells us.” 

Moody seemed content with Harry’s response as he began teaching. 

“Today we will be focusing on the Imperius curse, and more importantly how you can defend yourself against it. All of you form a line starting with Mr. Longbottom.”

Silently the class formed a line stretching to the back of the classroom. Using an unforgivable curse on fourth years didn’t particularly sound like something Dumbledore would permit, but Moody was Moody, who was Harry to question his teaching style? Watching in awe as Professor Moody commanded Neville to perform some complex gymnastic maneuvers, and to Harry’s amazement, he performed flawlessly. Despite the curse itself being unforgivable, Harry couldn’t help but be heavily entertained as he watched his classmates unwaveringly follow Moody’s commands. As Harry approached the front of the line, he found himself looking forward to being put under the curse. 

“Ready Potter?” Moody asked as Harry took a step forward.

“Yes, Professor.” 

With the wave of his wand, Harry was engulfed in a floating sensation, as if someone had stolen his worries and anxieties, leaving him with warm untraceable happiness. It was the most wonderful thing Harry had ever experienced. As he stood in front of the class, he felt deeply relaxed, only dimly aware of the twenty or so people behind him. The only thing he was aware of was the dim echoing of Professor Moody’s voice in some distant chamber of his vacant mind. 

“Jump, jump onto the desk,” the voice whispered to him.

Obediently bending his knees preparing to spring upward onto the desk, another voice spoke. 

“Why though? Why do you need to jump? It’s a silly thing to do.” The voice sounded painfully familiar.

“Jump onto the desk.” The voice that vaguely sounded like Moody repeated.

“No, I don’t want to.” As the second voice spoke Harry tried to imagine whose voice it belonged to. It was not his own, the voice was deeper than his. 

“Jump onto the desk.” 

Firmly the deeper voice repeated, “no, I don’t want to.” 

The deeper voice seemed to be louder, much more persuasive than the first voice. Harry gave in to its command. Quickly the blissful haze evaporated, leaving Harry back in control of his thoughts and actions. 

“I’m impressed Potter, most full-grown wizards aren’t able to fight off the Imperius curse. You’ve got something to be proud of.”   
Still feeling dazed and slightly confused, Harry responded with a simple “thanks, sir.” Before sitting down.

Resting his head in his hands, Harry tried to place the voice that helped him break free of the curse. It was soft, yet held an edge of malevolence, only comparable to that of Tom Riddle. Harry nearly fell out of his chair as the pieces seamlessly connected in his mind. It was Tom Riddle who helped him. 

The moment class was dismissed Harry raced to the Headmasters tower; Dumbledore needed to know his realization. This was more than silly dreams, he was connected to Voldemort, there was no other explanation unless Harry had truly lost it. “Acid pops!” Shouted Harry at the gargoyle, readying himself to spring up the stone steps. To his surprise and dismay, the statue stood, unwavering. “Acid Pops!” Harry repeated louder this time. Once again, the statue didn’t move. Feeling his patience slipping, Harry was about to kick the gargoyle just as the shrill pitch of Professor McGonagall’s voice rang through the vacant corridor. 

“Potter, what are you doing here?” She made her way to where Harry was standing. 

“I need to speak with Dumbledore Professor, it’s urgent and can’t wait!”

“I’m sorry Potter but the Headmaster isn’t in his office today.” 

“I need to reach him, you don’t understand!” Harry did not bother suppressing his frantic tone, Dumbledore was the only person who would believe and take Harry seriously. 

“He should be back in a couple of days if it’s as urgent as you say you can always talk to me, Potter.” The older woman flashed Harry a sympathetic glance as if she were trying to ease his anxiety.

“Please just let me know when he returns, professor.” Feeling both defeated and agitated, Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room where he threw on a loose pair of joggers and plain tee-shirt. He was surprised by how much he was looking forward to his training session with Cedric, if anything could take the mind off Voldemort, it was Cedric. The Hufflepuff boy had the ability to brighten even the darkest of rooms, it was a quality many seemed to overlook, but not Harry. 

Making his way to the courtyard, Harry was greeted by warm beams of the sun. Whatever the third task turned out to be, Harry silently hoped the weather would at least be nice. But he supposed anything would be a step up from the icy depth of the black lake.

“Harry, good to see you!” Cedric jogged to meet him. 

“You too.” 

“Professor Sprout just told me that we learn about the next task this Saturday.” Cedric seemed both nervous and excited.

“Fantastic! I can hardly wait to see what they’re going to throw at us now.” Harry grinned, while he could not wait for this tournament to be over, he had to admit that part of him would miss these training sessions. 

“Any guesses on what it’ll be? Personally, I think it could have something to do with the Forbidden Forest, I mean who knows what is truly back there.” 

“I bloody hope not. The few times I’ve ventured back there it was far from pleasant.” Memories of Lupin, Quirrell, and Aragog flashed in front of Harry’s eyes, he had already suffered at the hands of the Forbidden Forest and wasn’t very keen on going back. 

“Yeah, I would be content if we didn’t have to go in it.” After Cedric finished stretching, the two boys took off on their daily running loop. 

“What is there even left for them to throw at us?” Harry was generally curious as to what the third task could be.

“Who knows, we’ve already battled a dragon and had a visit with the Merpeople, they’ll probably have us find the cure to lycanthropy and dragon pox’s while we’re at it.” 

Cedric’s serious tone caused Harry to laugh. At this point, he would be surprised if the third task were not nearly impossible to complete. He wondered how the teachers and ministry even came up with the tasks and why, after so many years did, they choose to reinstate the tournament now after it was already proven to be incredibly dangerous. 

“It’ll be nice when it’s over.” Harry could not wait until he could look back on the tournament and laugh about it next year. It was a pleasant thought. 

“You’re telling me, I entered on purpose and am ready for it to be over, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” 

“It wasn’t all bad, besides, we wouldn’t be friends if it wasn’t for this tournament.” Harry meant every word he said, he truly was grateful for Cedric’s friendship. 

Cedric beamed at Harry. “I’m glad you’re in this competition, Harry. You make a fierce opponent and friend. When this is over can we stay in touch? Even if it’s just going for a run or even a swim every couple of weeks?

“Yeah, I would like that a lot.” A peaceful silence rested between them as their pace quickened. Harry was amazed at how much his fitness had improved. His mile pace had begun at almost eight minutes in the fall but now had progressed to almost under five. If track and field existed in the wizarding world, Harry would have been a star. 

“Did you ever figure out how your name ended up in the goblet?”

In all honesty, Harry probably should have spent more time trying to solve this mystery than he did. He had not thought about how he even got into the tournament since the first task, rather, he simply accepted his fate and aimed to survive each task. 

“No, I haven’t really thought about it.” It sounded silly saying aloud since whoever entered his name would probably appear sooner rather than later since the tournament was ending. As much as Harry had hoped it was some sort of prank, he could not ignore the fact that it would probably connect back to Voldemort one way or another. 

“I wonder if you’ll ever find out.” Cedric sounded curious as to if he was more invested in figuring out who the culprit was than Harry himself was.

-  
As Saturday rolled around, Harry found himself filled with an odd excitement. The sooner he knew what the third task was, the sooner it would be over. During breakfast, Professor McGonagall had pulled Harry aside and told him to go down to the quidditch stadium after dinner where he would be given his final clue. 

“Do you think the task has anything to do with quidditch at all?” Ron seemed especially interested in the third task this evening. 

Harry nibbled on a roll before responding. “Doubt it, I think we’re only meeting at the stadium because it's ideal. That would be great though if it involved anything to do with quidditch or flying.

“You’ll let us know what is right?” Hermione also seemed curious as to what the third task would be.

“Of course, I’m going to need all the help I can get.” Harry glanced down at his watch; dinner was nearly over. Grabbing one last dinner roll, he made his way out of the Great Hall. 

Sitting on a nearby bench was Cedric, the two had agreed to walk down together.

“Do you think it will be Bagman or Crouch?” Cedric stood up and zipped his coat. It turned out, that Barty Crouch’s absences had been noticed by more than just Harry, and while Harry hadn’t paid it too much thought, it didn’t sit right with him that out of all people Percy Weasley was filling in for him. 

“If it’s Crouch, I’ll give you a galleon.” 

With that, Harry and Cedric made their way down to the Quidditch pitch where they were greeted by Fleur, Krum, and Ludo Bagman.   
“Good evening champions, you are here to learn what your third and final task is.” Bagman paused before continuing. “Your task will be to navigate the maze you see behind me.” 

Sure enough, directly behind Bagman stood a wall of hedge that stood at least twenty feet high. Despite the sun barley hanging in the sky, Harry could make out a small opening. 𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, Harry thought to himself. 

“Inside the maze, you will find numerous obstacles, but more importantly you will be racing each other to find the Triwizard cup, whoever reaches this cup first will be declared the winner.” Bagman flashed them a smile. “Any questions?” 

“Do we get to know what any of the obstacles within the maze?” Question Fleur, appearing paler.

“Unfortunately, I cannot tell you, but my best advice would be to prepare for anything.” 

It did not surprise Harry that Bagman’s best advice was not remotely helpful. 

“Will Mr. Crouch be at the third task?” This time it was Cedric who spoke.

Bagman’s demeanor instantly changed from laid back to rigid. “Er, I believe Mr. Crouch is still quite sick, only time will tell if he is healthy enough.” 

Harry exchanged eye a glance to Cedric, neither of them believed Bagman, who now seemed to be agitated.

“If that is the end of questions, then I believe we are done here.” 

Without another word, the pair began making their way back to the warmth of the castle.

“That was odd, but at least we know the final task is a maze, that doesn’t seem so bad.” Cedric seemed pleased with the announcement of the maze.

“I wonder if we'll ever see Mr. Crouch again,” Harry spoke as they neared the castle.

Just as they were reaching the entrance, a hunched over figure emerged by the edge of the forest. Silently grabbing Cedric’s arm, Harry pointed at the silhouette of what appeared to be a man.

“Harry, I don’t think this is a good idea, what if they’re dangerous?” Cedric whispered as they quickly neared the man,

“They could be hurt; we can’t just leave them alone out here.” Cedric was probably right about it being a poor idea, but cautious thinking had never been Harry's strong suit.

It wasn’t until they were feet away from the man, did Harry realize who he was. It was Barty Crouch.


	12. More than you know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update I have been beyond busy with school. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Barty Crouch appeared to be in much worse shape than Harry had anticipated. His once full face was now sunken accompanied by an unhealthy shade of pale. He appeared to be incoherently muttering something that Harry couldn't decipher. Despite the sinking feeling in his gut, he approached the man.

“Mr. Crouch? Are you alright, it’s me Harry?” 

Either the man did not hear him or chose to ignore his question. Harry turned to face Cedric who also appeared on edge.

“What should we do?” Cedric asked cautiously as he slowly stepped backward, putting more space between Mr. Crouch and himself.

“We can’t just leave him here; I think there is something wrong with him. We need to get a teacher.” 

“You go, I’ll stay here with him, but be fast I have a bad feeling about this.” As Cedric pulled out his wand, his eyes remained on the older man. 

“Alright.” With that Harry took off, sprinting towards the castle. Silently he prayed that Dumbledore was in his office because if he were not, Harry wasn’t entirely sure what he would do. The cool night air burned his lungs as he quickly made his way to the Headmaster’s tower. To his relief the stone gargoyle opened at the sound of the password, allowing Harry to pass. Reaching the oak door before Dumbledore’s office, Harry knocked loudly.

“Hello, Harry.” The white-haired wizard spoke softly as Harry entered. 

“Professor, it’s urgent! Cedric and I, we found Mr. Crouch, but I think something is very wrong with him.” Harry was so caught up in explaining the situation to the Headmaster, that he did not notice Snape standing in the corner of the room. 

“Tell me exactly what happened.” Despite Harry’s frantic nature, Dumbledore remained unwaveringly calm.

“I don’t have time, I’ve already left Cedric alone for too long, please just come with me, sir!” Harry’s tone was shifting from panic-stricken to agitated. 

“Severus, if it is Barty, then you best come as well.” 

To Harry’s relief, the three of them quickly made their way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, as they walked, Harry recounted the incident.

“Cedric and I, we were coming back from the Quidditch pitch after learning about the third task. We were almost back at the castle when I saw what looked like a man limping out of the forest. We couldn’t just leave him there, so we decided to get a closer look where we saw it was Mr. Crouch. He appeared to be in pretty bad shape, Cedric said he would stay with him while I ran and got help.”

“Do you realize how idiotic that was of both of you? You’re lucky you didn’t encounter anything dangerous. You should have just left him and returned to the castle immediately.” Snape’s voice cut like a dagger, causing Harry to shudder. He was right, if they had encountered anybody but Mr. Crouch, things would have probably ended much worse. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t a great plan,” Harry muttered quietly, not particularly caring if either man heard. 

As they approached the spot he had left Cedric and Mr. Crouch, Harry felt his heart drop. Despite his poor vision, he could clearly see the silhouette of a singular body lying in the grass. Ignoring Dumbledore and Snape’s protests, Harry found himself sprinting faster than he had ever in his life. Something was not right at all. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘊𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘤, Harry thought as he threw himself down next to the figure. ‘Lumos’, he whispered, shining the light directly over the figures face. To his horror, the bright light revealed the motionless body of Cedric, his eyes were closed, and his face appeared relaxed as if he was sleeping.

“Ced! Cedric!” Harry roughly shook him, feelings of panic and nausea simultaneously washed over him. This was all Harry’s fault, it was his idea to take a closer look, he should have listened to the older boy. 

“Potter! Back away from him!” Snape’s voice was loud as he pushed Harry aside and began quietly muttering something inaudible as his wand hovered over Cedric. “He’s been stunned.”

At that moment Harry could have hugged Snape, Cedric was not dead. With a swoosh of his wand, Cedric’s brown eye’s snapped open, his face contorted with panic. 

“Harry?” Cedric’s voice came out hoarse as he sat up.

“Ced are you alright?” Harry inched closer to the boy, still bathing in relief. 

“Yeah, I think so.” He brought a hand to his neck and gently massaged it, slightly wincing in pain. 

Dumbledore was now crouching on the other side of Cedric, bearing an unreadable expression. “Mr. Diggory, if you are feeling well enough can you tell us what you remember happening to you?” 

The Hufflepuff pushed himself into a sitting position before he responded. “Well, after Harry left to get you, I tried to calm Mr. Crouch down. He was injured, I think his ankle was broken, I told him he should sit down so he wasn’t putting so much pressure on it. I’m not sure he even heard me, he just kept muttering something about needing to tell you something, Headmaster. Then someone stunned me from behind, the last thing I saw before I passed out was a figure approaching Mr. Crouch.” 

Dumbledore glanced at Snape momentarily. “Do you know how long ago that was?” 

“Er, maybe like five minutes ago? I’m not completely sure though, I feel a bit disoriented with everything that just happened.” 

As Cedric was beginning to find his feet the voice of Mad-Eyed Moody rang out through the still night air.

“What’s going on Albus?” Moody called as he limped over to where Harry was helping Cedric up.

Though it was rather odd for Moody to be here, Harry didn’t pay it much thought, although, he could have sworn he saw Cedric flinch at the sound of Moody’s voice. It made sense that Moody would monitor anybody who left the castle in the middle of the night, he did seem very paranoid, but with all he had endured, Harry couldn’t blame him.

If Dumbledore was surprised to see Moody, he did not show it. “Ah, Alastor, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Diggory said they saw Barty Crouch wandering at the edge of the forest. Mr. Diggory stayed with the man while Harry went back to the castle and alerted me of the situation. When we came back to where they saw Barty, we found that Mr. Diggory had been attacked, and there was no sign of Barty.” 

“Barty Crouch? Why would he be wandering around the forest?” Moody started directly at Harry as if he was expecting an answer. 

“No idea sir,” Harry spoke fast, wanting nothing more than to be back inside the safety of the castle.

Dumbledore looked at Cedric then to Harry before he spoke. “I believe its best if you both return to the castle.” 

With a quiet “yes sir,” Harry and Cedric began their trek back to the castle. Once they were out of earshot from the adults, Harry broke the silence.

“I shouldn’t have left you there alone, I’m sorry.” 

Cedric stopped walking and turned to face Harry. “It’s not your fault Harry, in fact, it was my idea for you to leave.” 

“When I saw you laying there, I thought the worst.” Harry’s voice slightly shook as he stared at the ground.

“Hey, it’s okay Harry, I’m alright.” Cedric gently placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. His voice was gentle.

“I know, I just have a bad feeling about everything, especially the third task.” Harry forced himself to look up from the grass.

Cedric was silent for a moment, his hand still resting on Harry’s shoulder as if he was deep in thought. 

“I think we’re both tired and overwhelmed, we’ve been training and preparing vigorously since the fall. What happened tonight was not right, but Hogwarts is the safest place I have ever been, and I know they would never purposely put us in the path of danger. I know Dumbledore and the other teachers will do everything in their power to protect us. I truly believe that everything will work out and be alright in the end.”

His words slightly reassure Harry, if Cedric believed everything would be okay then what was stopping Harry?

With a quiet sigh, Harry responded. “You’re right, everything is going to be alright.” 

The boys continued their walk through the brisk night air. As the lights of the castle came into view, Harry remembered Cedric's reaction to hearing Moody's voice

“Did you mean what you said back there, that you didn’t see anything about your attacker?” 

Cedric paused, once again turning to face Harry. “I left one thing out, I was going to tell them but then…” He anxiously looked down at the ground before finding Harry’s eyes again. “Just before I passed out, I saw a large figure make their way towards Crouch, it looked like they were limping.” 

“Do you think Moody did something to Mr. Crouch?” Harry kept his voice quiet.

Cedric looked mildly uncomfortable with this question. “Look, I don’t know what I saw, but please don’t say anything about this to anyone. Moody is already intimidating enough; I really don’t want him to be under the impression that I think he did something to Mr. Crouch.” 

“Okay, I won’t say anything." 

Cedric gave him a small nod as they parted ways.  
-

Harry’s anxieties and fears continued to plague him as he slept. Opening his eyes, he found himself seated on the dingy wood floor facing Tom Riddle. The boy looked strange, his skin appeared paler and his eyes held a reddish tint. 

“Ah Harry, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to visit me.” Riddle’s voice was smooth and fluent, he would have made a good politician if he weren’t completely insane. 

Harry was silent for a moment, still preoccupied with the events of that evening. 

“Not in a talkative mood tonight?” The sixteen-year-old set down his book and made his way to the large window. “My father is buried in that cemetery.” His voice held no emotion as if he were reciting a fact from a textbook. 

Not completely sure how to respond to this Harry remained silent. During their encounter in the Chamber, Tom had made it clear that he held no love for his father. Harry remembered clutching Ginny’s lifeless body as Riddle revealed his anagram. Part of Harry could not blame him for changing his name, the name Tom was not very intimidating or fear striking.

“I should destroy his gravestone, it’s more than he ever deserved anyways.” The older boy appeared to be lost in thought as he muttered to himself.

“Is this your house?” The words blurted out of Harry's mouth. He had never given the house much thought other than it being near the graveyard he had seen in previous dreams. 

Tom turned around to face Harry, a smile tugging at his lips. “No, it was my father's house, technically I own it now since he’s dead.” 

Once again, Harry was not sure how to respond to the older boy.

“Look at me getting sentimental about my father.” He gave a light laugh as if somebody had told him a joke. “Believe me when I say this Harry, the day I killed that bastard was one of the happiest moments of my life.” 

Harry shuddered at his words. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was talking to some figment of the dark lord since he appeared to be no older than sixteen. But with moments like this, when he spoke of killing and death, it was a stark reminder of what he was capable of.

“How did you do that.” Harry grasped for the right words as he remembered being under the Imperius curse.

Tom sat down across from Harry; mimicking Harry’s crossed-legged position. “Harry, I’ve done many things over my life, you’re going to have to be more specific.” 

“When I was under the imperius curse I heard your voice, you helped me break free.” 

If Riddle knew the answer, he kept it to himself as he stared at Harry, a quizzical expression forming on his handsome face. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he responded with a simple “wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“Tell me.” Harry was surprised by the demand in his voice.

Tom looked amused at Harry’s demand. “No, I don’t think I will.” 

It was moments like these that made Harry almost forget this was the man who murdered his parents. His pettiness made him seem so painfully human in all of the worst ways.

“Maybe you’ll learn one day.” He sounded bored.

“Shut the fu-“Harry shot up, no longer in the grimy house of Voldemort's father, but rather back in the comfort of his bed. He needed to find a way to stop these dreams. 

-

Despite Cedric’s plea of not bringing up Moody, Harry could not help it. Every time the man limped across Harry’s path; he could not help but wonder if there was something more to the man than just an ex-Auror. Maybe he had one too many brushes with dark magic? Ever since Cedric had brought his attention to the man it was all Harry could focus on. 

As the third task grew closer, Harry was beginning to feel incredibly overwhelmed. Every time he was sitting alone in the common room, no less than four Gryffindor students would approach him and ask about the final task. At first, he had not minded, but it quickly grew old, it was as if the third task had consumed every aspect of his life. Preparation wise he was feeling alright, he and Cedric had continued their weekly training sessions and had begun to focus on the best methods for navigation. In Harry’s opinion, the maze did seem like it would be to much trouble, he was more worried about what would be on the inside of it. 

Making his way to the Room of Requirements, Harry was surprised to find himself earlier than Cedric, it wasn’t like him to be anything but on time. Putting his bag down, Harry commenced with some light stretches. Not a moment later the door opened, revealing the disheveled Hufflepuff, his hair was windblown, and face was red as if he had sprinted all the way here. 

“Sorry I’m late, but you’ll never believe what I just saw.” Cedric’s chest heaved up and down as he spoke. 

Harry stood up, now facing the older boy. “What happened?” 

“I had just left Defense Against the Dark Arts when I realized I left my textbook at my desk, it couldn’t have been more than five minutes since the class had ended when I decided to go back and grab it. But when I got to the classroom, I found the door wide open, which was a bit odd since Moody is usually very on top of anything security-related. I called out for him but got no response, so I decided just to go in and grab my book. I was just about to leave when I saw Moody, his back was facing me and he was muttering something I couldn’t make out. I had a bad feeling and he seemed off, I walked up behind him and put my hand on his shoulder, but when he turned around, his face looked like it was almost melting. He seemed startled by my presence and began yelling something at me, I got out of there as fast as I could, and well now I’m here.”

“You need to tell Dumbledore about this and what happened the other night.” Harry’s eyes met Cedric’s. “Something about this doesn’t seem right, if anybody should know about this then it’s him.” 

Cedric averted his eyes to the ground. “I know, I just don’t want people to think I’m going off the rails and spreading rumors about teachers, you know?”

Harry, in fact, knew all too well. It seemed that with every passing school year he was subject to some new rumor, causing glares and whispers from what seemed to be every student. He had gotten good at ignoring them, but occasionally they still stung.

“I’ll come with you; you don’t have to go through this alone.” 

Despite his haze of panic, Cedric managed to smile at Harry. “Thank you, Harry, it means more than you know.”


	13. Together

It was far from a surprise when Dumbledore brushed off Cedric’s tale. His kind eyes reflected belief, but his words spoke differently.

“Please sir,” The Hufflepuff’s voice held a hint of desperation. 

The Headmaster rose from his seat and gently stroked Fawkes's head. “I appreciate you both coming to me, but I cannot act on a claim without other witnesses, especially against a teacher.” 

It was Harry’s turn to speak. “Sir, you don’t understand if you don’t act now, everything is only going to get worse. What if Moody is only the tip of the iceberg?” 

His eyes twinkled as they met Harry, for the first time since he met Dumbledore could he see the man’s old age. He looked worn out and exhausted, a twinge of guilt hit Harry. 

“I will do all I can to keep an eye on him and alert the staff of your experience, Mr. Diggory. I’m sorry I cannot do more.” A gentle sadness rested on his tired face.

With a nod, Cedric spoke. “Thank you, sir, goodnight.” 

Both boys hurried out of the headmaster’s office, neither feeling keen on lingering. Once back in the safety of the great hall, Cedric sat down in front of the bright fire. It was almost curfew, but Harry didn’t care, it didn’t sit right with him that Dumbledore was hardly going to act on Cedric’s encounter. 

“There’s got to be something we can do, I bet you anything Moody is related to your name coming out of the goblet.” 

“You really think so?” Despite not giving it much thought, Moody did seem like a strong candidate for entering his name, not to mention Harry couldn’t think of anyone else who would be motivated or cared enough about him being a part of the tournament. 

Cedric anxiously picked at the skin on his fingers, “I just wish we could find concrete evidence that he’s up to something. I’m starting to have a bad feeling about the third task, I would feel loads better if Moody weren’t around.” 

“Yeah, I’ve got a lousy feeling too, the least we can do is keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t do anything suspicious.” 

“I know I’ve said it before, but thanks for believing me, Harry.” Cedric looked exhausted as his eye’s met Harry's. 

“Of course.”   
-

The night before the third task was calm, a shallow breeze blew softly across the castle grounds. Despite the student body buzzing with excitement, Harry felt anything but. Neither Harry nor Cedric had caught Moody in the act of any suspicious behavior, but it was far from comforting. The past couple of months had been filled with studying and training, putting both Harry and Cedric in perpetual states of exhaustion, both were looking forward to the tournament’s completion. 

While the thought of winning still resided in Harry’s mind, his strategy for the maze was focused on survival rather than triumph. He would take a straightforward approach, keeping a steady pace and getting around the obstacles to the best of his ability, if he found the cup first fantastic; but if not, he hoped more than anything Cedric did. Both had been training and practicing nonstop since the announcement of the maze, Harry could safely say he felt the most confident about this task compared to the previous two. Harry was grateful for Cedric’s teaching, in a matter of weeks Harry had locked down the Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and obstruct attackers; the Reductor Curse, which would enable him to blast solid objects out of his way; and the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Cedric’s that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze. He was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. 

As the night of June 23rd ended, Harry's nerves were beginning to kick in, though they were not nearly as bad as they had been with the first and second tasks. Dinner had been a short affair; he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry and all the talk about the looming task was only making him anxious. Mindlessly walking out of the Great Hall, he went to the one place he knew would be calm, The Room of Requirements. Briefly closing his eyes and willing for a place of peace, a small wooden door appeared before him. As he entered, he was greeted by the gentle song of the piano. There sat Cedric, eyes closed, head gently swaying as if he were in a trance. With each note his fingers brushed, came a bell-like hum, softly echoing throughout the small room. As Harry sat down, he closed his eyes, letting the soft melody fill him, letting go of his anxieties and fears. Suddenly the music came to an abrupt halt, Harry opened his eyes to find Cedric eyes resting on him.

“Feeling nervous?” Cedric asked as he flexed his fingers which appeared to have tensed up.

“Yeah." Harry paused, taking in Cedric's presence before him. "Sorry I interrupted you, I thought you would be here, and I like listening to you play, it’s calming.” 

“Really? You came to hear me play?” His voice held a genuine surprise. 

Harry felt heat creep over his cheeks. “Yeah, you’re fantastic.” 

“After the task tomorrow, I think I’ll talk to my dad about a career in music, you’ve inspired to me pursue it.” 

“That’s incredible Cedric, I’m really proud of you!” Harry could not help but smile.

“Thanks, Harry.” Cedric smiled sheepishly in return. “I think I know just the song to ease your nerves.” 

With one last crack of his knuckle, Cedric resumed playing. This song was slower than the first, it was gentle, almost serene. As Harry closed his eyes again, it almost felt as if he were floating through space. Each note seemed to hold an emotion of love, warmth, and appreciation. It was the most beautiful song Harry had ever heard, part of him wished it would never end, that he would never have to leave this room with the kind boy and grand piano. As the song ended Harry opened his eyes.

“That song, what was it called?” 

“Gymnopédie, it was the first song my mother ever taught me how to play, she used to play it as I fell asleep at night.” 

“It’s beautiful Ced, she would be proud of you.”

“Your parents, they would be too, Harry.” 

Harry smiled, even though he couldn’t remember his parents, he knew they were always with him no matter where he was. He remembered when he saw them in the mirror of Erised, He didn't think he had ever felt so loved in his life 

“I know I’ve said it before but thank you for everything Harry. Training together this year, it's been fun, I’m glad we could do it together.” Cedric stood up from the piano and moved to where Harry sat.

“Thanks for the offer. I am certain I wouldn’t have made it passed the first task if it wasn’t for you.” Harry gave a sheepish smile as he got to his feet.

“And Harry, my offer still stands for you to stay with dad and me this summer.” 

“I would love to.”  
-

The morning of the third task was a noisy affair, the Great Hall seemed to hum with excitement. It was the last day of exams, which luckily for Harry he did not have to partake in since he was competing in the tournament. Despite not being required to attend them, Harry usually just sat in the back of the class and practiced the spells Cedric had taught him. Today was the History of Magic exam with Professor Binns, as Harry was about to leave with Ron and Hermione, Professor McGonagall approached the trio. 

“Potter, the champions are meeting in the chamber off to the left after breakfast.” 

“But the task isn’t until tonight!” A surge of panic swept over Harry as he feared he had mistaken the time.

“Yes, Potter I am aware of that, the champion’s families are invited to watch the final task. This is simply a chance for you to greet them.” 

As she moved away Harry turned to Ron.

“She doesn’t expect the Dursleys to show up, does she?” Harry asked blankly. 

“Dunno,” said Ron as he finished packing his school bag. “I’ve got to hurry to my exam, but I’ll see you later Harry.” 

As Harry finished eating, a pit began to form in his stomach. He had no family, no one to come to cheer him on as he risked both his life and competed against students three years older than him. As he was getting up it dawned on him that it may be a better use of his time to go to the library and do some last-minute preparations. Just about to make a break for it, Cedric stuck his head out the chamber door.

“Harry, come on they’re waiting for you!” His voice was bursting with excitement. 

Perplexed, Harry made his way into the chamber where he saw Cedric and his dad happily talking right past the door, Krum and his parents speaking rapidly in Bulgarian, and Fleur and her family were standing on the other side of the room. To Harry’s surprise, he saw Mrs. Weasley and Bill standing in front of the fireplace beaming at him.

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley warmly greeted him as she wrapped him in a tight hug. “Thought we would surprise you and come and watch you!” 

For a moment Harry was speechless, Mrs. Weasley’s kindness never failed to amaze him. 

“That’s really nice of you to come, for a moment I thought Professor McGonagall was talking about the Dursleys.” 

Mrs. Weasley looked as if she was about to criticize them, just as Cedric and his father, Amos approached them. 

“Hello, Molly!” Amos Diggory kindly greeted her. “You must be Bill; Arthur has told me much about you.” He shook Bill’s hand. Lastly, he turned to face Harry. “Ah Harry, I’ve heard only good things about you from Cedric. Best of luck tonight!” 

“Thank you, sir, it means a lot.” 

Cedric flashed Harry one last warm smile before leaving the chamber with his father. The rest of the morning and afternoon was spent walking around the castle grounds, for a while Harry almost forgot he had to partake in the final task in a matter of hours. As they made their way back to the castle, they were greeted by the rest of the Weasley’s as they sat down for dinner. It almost felt like he was back in the comfort of the Burrow, it was a lovely feeling. It was not until he caught a glimpse at the staff table where Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge were sitting did Harry’s nerves return. As the meal came to an end, Dumbledore got to his feet.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, in five minutes I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch Pitch for the commencement of the third and final task of the Triwizard tournament. As for the champions, please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now.” 

Harry stood up, his stomach twisting into a painful knot, he was now feeling incredibly nervous, especially knowing Mrs. Weasley had come all this way to watch him. As he made his way out of the great hall, a warm cheer came from the Gryffindor table, it made him feel a bit better. 

“How are you feeling?” Cedric’s voice slightly shook as he greeted Harry.

“You know, brilliant.” Cedric smiled at his response, it comforted Harry.

“However, this ends and whoever wins, I’m glad you were a part of this.” Cedric took a deep breath. “Afterwards I wouldn’t mind celebrating together, even if neither of us wins, we both worked hard.” 

Harry grinned at Cedric, “yeah, I would like that a lot.”   
-

The Quidditch field was unrecognizable, a twenty-foot high hedge ran around the perimeter. A gap stood in front of the two Hogwarts Champions: the entrance to the vast maze. Peering into it, Harry only felt a sense of foreboding, he chalked it up to nerves. 

The stands quickly begin to fill with students and family. Despite the evening air being cold, Harry found himself radiating heat as he nervously picked at his fingers. A handful of teachers including Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid made their way towards the champions. Something uncomfortable twinged in Harry at the sight of Moody. 

“We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze.” Said Professor McGonagall to the champions. “If you find yourself in trouble and wish to be rescued, shoot up red sparks with your wand and one of us will come to assist you.” 

Harry nodded alongside the other three champions. 

“All right off you go!” Said Bagman brightly to the teachers. 

“Good luck Harry!” Hagrid said cheerfully, Harry could only manage a small smile, now feeling sick with nerves. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention!” Ludo Bagman’s voice rang out through the noisy stands. “The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin, but before it does let me remind you of the current standings! Tied for first place with eighty-five points we have Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both from Hogwarts! The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. “In second place we have Mr. Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute and in third place, Mrs. Fleur Delacour of Beauxbaton academy.” 

Harry turned to face Cedric, knowing they would be entering the maze together.

“Good luck Ced.” This time it was Harry gently placing his hand on Cedric’s shoulder.

Cedric beamed at him, “and you as well Harry, see you on the other side.”

“Gentlemen, on my whistle,” said Bagman. “Three – two – one –” 

He gave a short blast of his whistle, and Harry and Cedric shot off into the maze. The moment they stepped inside, the hedge sealed itself, silencing the noise of the crowd. Simultaneously, Harry and Cedric both lit their wands. Not more than fifty feet into the maze did they reach a fork.

“See you at the end.” Grinned Cedric as he sped off on the path on the right.

Harry felt almost as if he was back underwater and he quickened his pace on the path opposite of Cedric’s. It was strange to be alone in the maze, the stillness made the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck rise. The faint sound of a whistle signified Krum’s entrance into the maze, it made Harry speed up. His chosen path seemed deserted as he took a sharp right turn, tightly he gripped his lit wand high over his head, trying to see as far as possible. Not five minutes later did an even fainter whistle noise indicated Fleur’s arrival in the maze, still, Harry’s path remained empty.

He could not help but look behind himself every few moments. The familiar feeling of being watched was upon him, and he couldn’t seem to shake it. The maze was only growing darker with every passing minute, the sky was now a deep shade of navy. 

As he reached a second fork, Harry whispered to his wand, “Point me.” To his dismay, his wand directly pointed at the solid hedge. That way was north, and seeing that he needed to go northwest to reach the center of the maze, he decided that his best bet was to take the path on the left and go right as soon as he had the option. His path remained empty as he quickened his pace. As he reached a right fork it too was once again free of any obstacles, it unnerved Harry, as of now it seemed far too easy. The movement behind him caused Harry to quickly spin and defensively point his wand, accept it fell upon no obstacles, only a severely shaken looking Cedric. 

“Hagrid’s Blast-ended Skrewts! They’re ginormous, I only just got away!” His chest heaved as he spoke, desperately trying to regain his breath. “Watch out for them!” He called as he quickly sped out of sight, trying to put as much distance between himself and the Skrewt as possible. 

Seeing Cedric so unnerved rattled Harry. As he turned a corner something large and black caught his eye, a dementor. Twelve feet tall, it’s face hidden by its hood, it’s rotting hands outstretched, it advanced blindly towards him. Harry could hear its ragged breath and felt the effect of its presence as a chill traveled up his spine. He knew what he had to do. 

Summoning the happiest thought, he could, he concentrated with all his might on the memory of Cedric playing the piano for him. As he pointed his wand at the dementor, he cried “𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘰 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘶𝘮!”

A silver stag erupted from his wand and charged at the dementor. To his surprise the dementor stumbled backward, tripping over its billowing robes. Harry had never seen a dementor stumble before.

“Hang on! You’re a boggart!” He cried, advancing towards the creature. “𝘙𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘬𝘶𝘭𝘶𝘴!” 

With a loud crack, the shapeshifting creature exploded into a wisp of smoke. The stag had now faded from sight, once again leaving Harry all alone. He wished it would have stayed, he could use both its light and company. Once again picking up his pace, Harry re-lit his wand. Left. . . Right. . . Then left again. . . Twice Harry found himself facing dead ends, thanks to his four-pointing spell, he discovered his mistake had been caused by going too far east. Turning around and taking a right turn, an odd golden mist caught his attention. 

Slowly approaching it, Harry raised his wand a racked his brain for a spell. 

“Reducto!” He shouted. The golden mist remained unwavering in the cold night air. He supposes he should have known better than to use the Reductor curse, it was meant for blasting solid objects. 

As Harry weighed his chances of walking through the mist, a piercing scream broke the eerie silence.

“Fleur?” Called Harry cautiously.

He was met with silence as if he had not spoken at all. Was Fleur alright? Where had her scream even come from? It could not have been too far considering how loud it sounded. Taking a deep breath, Harry ran through the mist. 

The world turned upside down, Harry was hanging from the grown with his hair on end, and glasses dangling from his nose. His feet appeared to be glued to the grass, preventing him from falling into oblivion. His mind was blank, he had never even considered learning a spell to deal with a situation like this. He had two choices, try and move or send red sparks up and get rescued. Tightly squeezing his eyes shut, he braced for impact as he pulled his right foot off the grassy ceiling.

Immediately the world was right again. Harry fell forward, gently appreciating the solid ground. Taking a steady breath, he composed himself and began running once more. He hoped Cedric was having more luck with the maze than he was. Passing another junction, he wondered what had happened to Fleur, had she met a creature she couldn’t handle? There was no sign of red sparks, a large part of Harry hoped she was okay, but he couldn’t shake the thought, 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯. . . 

Taking the right fork, his feeling of unease was only growing by the minute. He had never wanted to finish a task so badly. Harry encountered nothing for the next ten minutes but kept running into dead ends. A deep sense of panic was starting to set in, causing him to take the same wrong turn twice. Finally, he found a new route and began jogging upon it. As he rounded a corner, he was greeted by a Blast-Ended-Skrewt.

Cedric was right, it was enormous. Over ten feet long, it looked more like a scorpion than anything else. Its thick body armor glinted in the light from Harry’s wand, which he pointed at the creature and yelled.

"𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘺!” 

The spell hit the Skrewts armor and rebounded; Harry barely managed to duck in time, the smell of his singed hair could prove it. The now angry Skrewt issued a blast of fire from its end and rushed towards Harry.

“𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢!” Harry cried. Once again, the spell ricocheted off the creatures’ armor. Staggering back a few paces, Harry fell over, conjuring all of his remaining might and screaming “𝘐𝘔𝘗𝘌𝘋𝘐𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘈!”

The Skrewt was mere feet from Harry when it froze, he had managed to hit its weak spot untouched by its armor. Painting, Harry pushed himself up and began running in the opposite direction, the impedimenta curse was far from permanent and the Skrewt would be regaining use of its legs any moment. 

Quickly performing the Four-Point spell he took the path on the right. He had only been traveling along his chosen path for minutes when he heard something in the path running parallel to his that made him stop dead.

“What are you doing?” Yelled Cedric’s voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Then Harry heard Krum’s voice.

“𝘊𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘰!”

The air was suddenly full of Cedric’s screams. Horrified, Harry began sprinting up his path, frantically trying to find a way to get to Cedric’s. When no new paths appeared, Harry took matters into his own hands. Pointing his wand at the hedge he preformed the Reductor Curse. It was far from effective, burning a hole just big enough for Harry to crawl through. Struggling through the dense brush, he tried to control his breathing. Finally breaking through the hedge, Harry turned his head to the right, where he saw Cedric jerking sporadically on the ground and Krum standing over him. 

Harry pulled himself up and pointed his wand a Krum, who was about to make a break for it, and yelled, “𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘺!”

The spell hit Krum directly in the back, causing him to fall face-first into the ground. Immediately, Harry ran to Cedric, who had stopped twitching, and was lying with his hands protectively covering his face.

“Ced, are you alright?” Harry gently touched his arm, trying to reassure the exhausted-looking boy. 

“Yeah.” Cedric was panting heavily. “Yeah. . . I don’t believe it. . . He crept up behind me. . . I heard him and turned around, and he had his wand on me. . .”

Slowly, and with Harry’s help Cedric managed to get to his feet, he was still shaking. He and Harry both looked down at Krum.

“I’ve never liked him much but using the cruciatus curse on you while your back was turned. . . That’s practically death eater behavior.” 

“I know.” 

“Did you hear Fleur scream earlier?” Harry asked, thankful for this break from running. 

“Yeah, you think Krum got to her?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry responded slowly.

“Should we leave him here?” Cedric asked, giving Krum’s motionless body a disgusted stare.

“No,” said Harry. “I reckon we should send up red sparks. Someone will come and collect him. . . Otherwise he’ll probably be eaten by the Skrewt. 

“He deserves it,” Cedric muttered, but all the same, he raised his wand into the air and shot a shower of red sparks into the air, which hovered high above Krum, marking the spot where he lay.

For a moment, Harry and Cedric stood together in silence. It almost felt as if they had just finished an intense training session rather than becoming the final two competitors in the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric spoke first.

“I guess we should get moving, thanks for saving me Harry, I owe you big time.” 

Harry desperately didn’t want to leave Cedric, it felt so nice to be back in his company. “Yeah, you’re right, and no don’t worry about it, I know you would have done the same for me.”

Cedric flashed Harry an exhausted grin as he slowly upped his pace, turning right at the nearest fork. Harry turned left, breaking into a slow jog, his adrenaline had worn off, leaving him on edge and exhausted. A strange desire to find the cup first was beginning to fill him, but more than anything he wanted this task to be over. As he continued alone, the realization of Krum using the cruciatus curse was beginning to dawn on him. The use of an unforgivable curse on another human being was a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Surely Krum did not want the cup 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 badly. Harry sped up, the maze had gotten so dark, his wand light did little more than prevent him from tripping over roots, it had to be a sign he was nearing the heart of the maze. As a stitch in his side began to form, Harry slowed his pace. A flicker of movement made him defensively point his wand, his beam of wand light now shining on a creature whom he had only ever seen pictures of in his textbook, a Sphinx. 

It had the body of an overgrown lion: humongous, clawed paws and a long yellow colored tail, ending in a fuzzy puff. It’s head however was that of a woman. She turned her head to face Harry, her dark eye’s gazing him over. Unsure of what to do, Harry slowly raised his wand and pointed it at her. 

“You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me.” Her voice was deep and raspy.

“So... Will you move, please?” Harry knew what the answer would be but it was worth a shot.

“No,” she answered, pacing back and forth. “Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess – I will let you pass. Answer wrongly – I will attack. Remain silent – I will let you walk away from me unscathed.”

Harry felt his stomach sink, it was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not himself. Silently, he weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard he could remain silent and go. 

“Alright, can I hear the riddle?” 

The Sphinx sat down on her hindlegs, completely blocking the path, and began to recite the riddle:

“𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵, 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥? 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥-𝘵𝘰-𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴?”

Harry gaped at her; his mind had never felt his empty before.

“Could I have it again more slowly?” He asked tentatively.

She smiled at him and repeated it, this time much slower.

“All of the clues add up to a creature I want to kiss?” Harry asked.

She merely smiled at him; Harry took this as a sign he was heading in the right direction. Since Harry had now committed to solving this riddle, he began mulling over animals he would not want to kiss. There were plenty of animals he wouldn’t want to kiss, but the only thing coming to mind was the bloody Skrewt, he had a feeling that that wasn’t it. 

“A person in disguise,” Harry muttered, staring at her, “who lies . . . er . . . that’d be a — an imposter. No, that is not my guess! A — a spy? I’ll come back to that . . . could you give me the next clue again, please?” 

She repeated the next lines of the poem. 

“‘The last thing to mend,’ “Harry repeated. “Er . . . no idea . . . ‘middle of middle’ . . . could I have the last bit again?”   
She gave him the last four lines.

“‘The sound often heard during the search for a hard-to-find word,’ ” said Harry. “Er . . . that’d be . . . er . . . hang on — ‘er’! Er’s a sound!” 

The Sphinx smiled at him. 

“Spy. . . er . . . spy. . . er.” Harry spoke aloud as he paced in circles. “A creature I wouldn’t want to kiss. . . a spider!” 

The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass. 

“Thanks!” said Harry, and amazed at his own brilliance, he dashed forward. 

He had to be close, as he broke into a run he came upon a fork. “Point me!” He whispered to his wand as it spun around, signaling him to take the path on the right. Sprinting forward he saw it, the gleam of the cup, he didn’t think he had ever seen something so beautiful in all fourteen years of his life. Suddenly a dark figure hurdled out of nowhere.

Cedric was going to reach the cup first. He was already ahead of Harry, sprinting faster than Harry had ever seen. Part of Harry knew he should let Cedric take the cup, he deserved it. But Harry had not come all this way to just let him win without a little competition. Harry had begun sprinting too, in a last-ditch effort. Suddenly Harry caught a glimpse of something huge over the hedge to his left. It was moving so fast Cedric was going to run into it, and Cedric his eye’s glued to the cup, had no idea.

“Cedric!” Cried Harry, channeling what was left of his own energy to get Cedric’s attention. “On your left!”

Cedric looked around just in time to hurl himself past the thing and avoid colliding with it, but in his haste, he tripped. Harry saw Cedric’s wand fly out of his hand as a gigantic spider stepped into the path and began to bear down upon Cedric.

“𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘺!” Harry yelled; the spell collided with the spider’s hairy body but did as much good as throwing a rock at it would have. The spider turned and began to scuttle towards Harry. 

“𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘺! 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢! 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘺!”

It was no use, either the spider was so large or so magical, that Harry’s spells were doing no more than aggravating it. Harry caught one horrifying glimpse of the spider before its razor-sharp pincers embedded themselves in his leg. Pain flooded his body, he heard Cedric yelling “𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘺!”, but it had just as much effect as Harry’s own spells. In a final attempt to get the spider off himself, he raised his wand and cried, “𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘴!”

To his amazement, the spell worked, the disarming spell sent the spider flying backward, releasing his leg. Without pausing to think, he pointed his wand at the spider’s underbelly, as he had done with the Skrewt, and shouted “𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘺!” Just as Cedric did the same thing. 

The two spells combined did what one alone had not: The spider keeled over sideways, strewing the path with its hairy legs.   
“Harry!” Cedric shouted. “Are you okay? Did it fall on you?”

“No.” He called out. The pain in his leg had only worsened since the spider let go. Glancing down at his leg, which was now free bleeding, he was almost certain he would not be able to put any weight on it. Trying to stand, his leg began intensely shaking, causing Harry to slouch into the hedge. 

Cedric was standing feet from the Triwizard cup.

“Go on take it.” Harry panted to Cedric. “Go on Ced, you’re there, it’s yours.” 

But Cedric did not move. He merely stood there, looking at Harry. He turned to stare at the cup, the golden light washed over his beautiful face. Harry saw the look of longing as he stared at the cup, but he did not reach for it, merely turning back to look at Harry, who was now desperately clinging to the hedge for support. Cedric took a deep breath.

“You should take it, Harry, you saved me twice, I owe you.” 

“You know it doesn’t work like that. You got to it first, I want you to have it.” Harry bit back a groan of pain, the state of his leg was diminishing with every moment he was putting weight on it.

Cedric was now moving away from the cup, nearing to where Harry stood, shaking his head.

“No, I’m not going to take it.” 

“Ced, please! You don’t need to be noble, just take it so we can both get out of here.” This was not how Harry had imagined finding the cup, begging Cedric to take it as he did everything in his power not to pass out from the pain. 

Cedric slowly moved towards Harry. 

“It should be you, you didn’t get a choice to compete, but you did, if it weren’t from you, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.” He paused, meeting Harry’s eyes. “You should have gotten more points, you saved more people in the second task, you deserve to win right now.” 

Harry would have laughed if he were not in so much pain. “You know the only reason I saved two people was because I was the only one thick enough to take that song seriously!” His knuckles were white from gripping the hedge so tightly and black spots were starting to appear in his vision. Harry felt his grip slowly loosen before he was even aware, his body was collapsing to the ground. He would have completely collapsed if it had not been for Cedric. No longer was he inches from the cup, instead he was practically cradling Harry in his arms. 

“It’s alright.” Cedric’s voice was soft as he helped Harry up, resting Harry’s arm over his own neck so Harry could put all of his weight on his good leg without falling over again. 

“Please Cedric, take the cup, you deserve it more than me.” Harry’s voice came out in a whisper, he didn’t think he had ever been this exhausted in his life. 

“You know I’m not going to take it.” His voice remained gentle, as he slowly guided Harry towards the cup.

“Together?” Harry’s eyes met Cedric as they continued their slow trek towards the cup. 

“Together.” 

As they neared the cup, both held out a hand towards the gleaming handles.

“On three, right?” said Harry “One – two – three – “ 

He and Cedric both grabbed a handle. Instantly, Harry felt his whole-body jerk. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench his hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward into a howl of wind and swirling colors, with Cedric at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for such a late update I made this chapter much longer than I normally would. I completely forgot how much actually happened during the third task so I had to go back to the book and re-read it bc I wanna make this as accurate as possible. Also in the book, Amos Diggory is so mean towards Harry so I made him a bit nicer. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and prepare yourselves for the next one!


	14. We are not who we used to be

Harry felt his body slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hands finally releasing the Triwizard cup. He felt incredibly dizzy and weak as he raised his head. 

“Where are we?” Cedric asked as he gently pulled Harry to his feet.

They were not where they were supposed to be. Instead of emerging back at the crowded Quidditch stadium, they appeared to have traveled miles, perhaps hundreds of miles. Despite it being the dead of night Harry took in his surroundings, something painful lurched in his stomach, a sense of dread he had only known in dreams. They were in a graveyard, the graveyard that had first appeared in Harry’s dreams. As he turned his head, he could taste the bile in his throat. In the distance, barely visible sat the dark ugly mass that was Tom Riddle’s house. 

“I’ve been here before.” The words came out barely audible. Fear was beginning to wash over him.

“Are you alright Harry?” A concerned expression plastered Cedric’s face as he looked at Harry.

“I’ve been here before.” He whispered again, a cold sweat beginning to coat his dirty skin. The pain in his leg was only growing as he started at the tiny house upon the hill.

“The cup, did you know it was a portkey?” 

Harry quickly shook his head, unsure of how to comprehend his situation. This could not be real, he had to be in one of his dreams. Except Cedric never appeared in his dreams, nor did he ever feel pain like this before.

“Do you reckon this is part of the task?” Cedric sounded curious, almost amused.

“No, we shouldn’t be here.” Harry tried to take a step forward but was only greeted with almost unbearable pain, his leg crumbled, sending him colliding with the ground. Instantly Cedric was crouching in front of him.

“Ced, we need to get back to the cup.” The words came out unsteady and fast, it was beginning to feel hard to breathe.

“Harry, I don’t understand, what’s going on?” With one hand he gently cupped Harry’s face, a look of unease growing on his face as he took in Harry’s horrified expression.

“We need to leave.” Was all he managed to say.

Cedric was about to respond when something caught his eye. 

“Someone’s coming,” his once soft voice, now coated with anxiety. “Wands out.” 

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure draw closer, walking steadily towards them between the graves. Harry couldn’t make out a face but from the way it walked and held its arms, he could tell it was carrying something. Whoever the figure was, they appeared to be short and wearing a hooded cloak, pulled over their head to hide their identity. As they inched closer, the bundle in their arms was beginning to become clearer, it almost looked like a baby… or was it merely a bundle of robes? 

Still, on the ground, Harry forced himself to stand, transferring all his weight to his good leg. Cedric also stood up, defensively pointing his wand at the cloaked man. 

“Ced, get back to the cup, please.” His voice was soft enough that it would have been impossible for the figure to hear.

Cedric turned his head for half a second, looking into Harry’s bloodshot eyes, it felt like an eternity. 

“I’m not leaving you, Harry, not now.” 

“You don’t under – “the words died on Harry’s lips. Without warning his scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was back on the ground; his head felt as if it were going to split open. 

“Harry!” Cedric cried out, defensively putting himself between the hooded man and Harry.

With his last remaining ounce of strength, Harry found himself screaming, “GET BACK TO THE CUP.” 

From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, “Kill the spare.”

Then came a swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: “Avada Kedavra!”

It happened too fast. A blast of emerald light exploded through Harry’s eyelids, he heard something heavy collapse on the ground next to him. The pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes. 

Cedric was lying on the ground beside him. It was nothing like when Harry found him by the Forbidden Forest, where his body looked relaxed as if he were blissfully dreaming. This was not like that, there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Cedric Diggory was dead. 

For a second that contained eternity, Harry stared into Cedric’s face. His once delicate, soft brown eyes were wide with terror. His mouth was slightly opened as if he were about to say something to Harry. And then, before Harry’s mind could accept what he was seeing before he could feel anything but numb disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet. 

The short man had put down the bundle, lit his wand, and was now dragging Harry towards the marble headstone. Harry saw the name upon it flickering in the wand light before he was forced around and slammed into it. He wanted to scream, to kill the man, and wrap his arms around Cedrc. As the cloaked man conjured tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone, he caught a glimpse of Cedric’s cold, scared eyes. 

His breath hitched as he began to struggle against the man. He could not die like this. He could not leave Cedric here. Roughly the man slapped him across the face with a hand that had a finger missing. It was Wormtail.

“You!” The words came out in a hoarse cry.

But Wormtail who had just finished conjuring the ropes did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over knots. Once certain that Harry wouldn’t be able to move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of cloth from his pocket and roughly stuffed it into Harry’s mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away. Harry couldn’t make a sound, nor see where Wormtail had gone; he couldn’t turn his head to see beyond the headstone; he could only see what was right in front of him.

Cedric’s body was lying some twenty feet away. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared at his body. It could not be real, Cedric could not be dead, it had to be a dream, only dreams could be this cruel. If Harry were to die, he prayed it would be quick, prayed he would see Cedric’s smiling face and everything would be alright, he would be safe. He forced himself to look past his body, someway beyond him lay the Triwizard cup, glinting in the starlight. Harry’s wand lay useless on the ground next to Cedric. 

The bundle of robes that Harry had thought was a baby was near, resting at the foot of the grave. It appeared to be stirring fretfully. As Harry watched it, his scar seared with pain again. . . and he suddenly knew that he didn’t want to see what was in those robes. . . he didn’t want that bundle opened. . . 

A soft hissing sound forced Harry’s gaze to the ground, where he was greeted by a ginormous snake, who was circling the headstone where he was tied. Wormtail’s fast, wheezy breathing had become loud again, it sounded like he was forcing something heavy across the grass. As Harry caught sight of him, he realized he was pushing a large stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It appeared to be full of water and seemed to be big enough to hold a grown man. Were they going to drown Harry? Was that going to be the way he was ended his time on this mortal plane, drowned in a cauldron? 

Whatever was in the bundle of robes was now stirring more persistently, as if it were trying to free itself. Wormtail was now busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with his wand. Suddenly there was a loud crack and flames erupted beneath it. The snake slithered away into the inky darkness. 

The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began to not only bubble but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated, the same high, cold voice that said to kill Cedric spoke once more. 

“Hurry!”

“It is ready Master.” Wormtail paid Harry no attention as he picked up the bundle, cradling it in his arms.

“Now!” 

The fat, ugly man pulled open the robes, revealing the content inside. Harry’s scream was muffled against the cloth as his body viciously jerked against his restraints. The thing Wormtail had been holding had the shape of a human child, except Harry had never seen anything less childlike in his life. It was hairless, scaley looking a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face — no child alive ever had a face like that — flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes. 

The thing appeared to be completely helpless as it raised its arms, clinging to Wormtail's neck. As Wormtail lifted the thing, his hood fell back, revealing a look of pure disgust. As the man lowed the hideous thing into the cauldron, Harry caught a glimpse of its red eyes, causing his heart to race. There was a soft thud as its body hit the bottom of the cauldron.

𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 . . . 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯. . .

Wormtail began speaking, his voice shook; he seemed almost as afraid as Harry. Closing his eyes and raising his wand, he spoke to the quiet night air. 

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”

The surface of the grave at Harry’s feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail’s command and fell softly into the cauldron. The liquid had changed from a murky brown to a poisonous blue.   
A whimper escaped Wormtail's throat as he unsheathed a long, thin, shining silver dagger from his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs as he spoke.

“Flesh — of the servant — w-willingly given — you will — revive — your master.” 

He stretched his right hand out in front of him — the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.

Harry realized a moment too late what Wormtail was about to do. Unable to look away, Harry watched with revulsion as the man hacked off his own wrist, if it were not for the rag in his mouth, he would have vomited. Tightly closing his eyes, all he could do was listen to the mans piercing scream and wait for his own inevitable demise. 

Wormtail was gasping and moaning in agony. It wasn’t until Harry felt Wormtail’s hot breath against his face did he realize the man was in front of him. 

“B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly taken . . . you will . . . resurrect your foe.”

There was nothing Harry could have done to prevent it. As he hopelessly struggled against his restraints, he caught a glimpse of the bloodstained dagger in Wormtail's hand. He felt its tip puncture the crook in his right arm and warm blood seep down the sleeve of his ripped shirt. 

The short man staggered back to the cauldron still tightly clutching the dagger. Roughly tapping it against the side of the cauldron, Harry watched as his blood slowly dripped into the now milky colored liquid. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was now shimmering, sending sparks in every direction, so blindingly bright that it turned all else into velvety blackness. For a moment nothing happened. . . 

𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨. . .

Without warning, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn’t see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air. . . . 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 . . . 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘥 . . . 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 . . . 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥. . . .

Through the thick mist, Harry caught sight of the dark outline of a tall, skeletally thin man, rising slowly from the cauldron. Harry let out a muffled scream as a wave of terror engulfed him.

“Robe me,” said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master’s head. 

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry . . . and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake’s with slits for nostrils . . .  
Lord Voldemort had risen again.

-

Despite only seconds passing since Voldemort had risen from the cauldron, it felt like forever. His red eyes bore into Harry’s soul, this Voldemort before him was nothing like the sixteen-year-old he had encountered in both the chamber and his dreams. As the man broke eye contact, Harry wondered if this “new” Voldemort held any recollection of their previous encounters. 

Harry watched as the man flexed his long skeletal fingers, and as he dipped one into the pocket of his robe, drawing out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.

Trying to escape seemed futile, all Harry could do was brace himself as Voldemort made his way closer to the tombstone.  
Wormtail’s robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them. 

“My Lord . . .” he choked, “my Lord . . . you promised . . . you did promise . . .” 

“Hold out your arm,” said Voldemort lazily.

“Oh Master . . . thank you, Master . . .” He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemortonly laughed. 

“The other arm, Wormtail.”

“Master, please . . . please . . .”

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail’s left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past his elbow, and Harry saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo — a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth — the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail’s uncontrollable weeping.

“It’s back,” he said softly, “they will have noticed it. . . and now, we shall see, now we shall know.” 

Roughly, he pressed his long white forefinger on the tattoo on Wormtails arm. 

The scar on Harry’s forehead seared, causing him to thrash and bite back a scream. Voldemort removed his finger from the mark, which had now turned jet black. With a look of cruel satisfaction, Voldemort rose and observed the empty graveyard. 

“How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?” he whispered; his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. “And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?”

He began to slowly pace up and down before Harry and Wormtail, eyes fixated on the rows of corroding headstones. After a minute, his gaze wandered back to Harry, a cruel smile forming on his face. 

“I must say I would have preferred my sixteen-year-old self, but this will do for now.” He slowly inched closer to where Harry was restrained. He was almost inches away from Harry’s sweat-soaked face when something caught his eye.

“Such a shame, so far from home, he was a handsome boy.” Voldemort was now peering down at Cedric’s limp body.

Cedric. He killed Cedric. Hatred engulfed Harry’s veins, and for a moment he was not afraid. Frantically thrashing and screaming, Harry did something both very brave and very stupid. With his remaining energy, Harry did everything he could think of to draw Voldemort away from Cedric’s body. He deserved so much more than to be taunted by the man who condemned him. 

To Harry’s own amazement and terror, his racket had drawn the man’s attention away from Cedric and back to himself. 

“You’ll be with your dear boyfriend soon Harry.” The same merciless smile appearing over his pale mouth once more. 

Harry felt a tear trickle down his cheek as the calm air erupted with the swishing of cloaks. Between the graves, wizards were apparating, all of them hooded and cloaked, just as Wormtail had been when Harry and Cedric had first arrived. One by one, they slowly moved forward. . . slowly and cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. One of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled forward to Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes. 

“Master. . . Master. . .” He murmured 

The Death Eaters behind him followed his lead, approaching Voldemort, collapsing to their knees, and kissing his robes, before standing up and backing away. Slowly, they formed a circle, engulfing Tom Riddle’s grave, Harry, Voldemort, and the sobbing heap that was Wormtail. There were gaps in the circle as if they were expecting more to show up. Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect anymore as he surveyed the hooded faces that stood, cowering before him. A tense, heavy silence hung in the air as Voldemort took in the handful of Death Eaters before him, it was extremely uncomfortable to watch. 

“Welcome, Death Eaters,” said Voldemort quietly. “Thirteen years . . . thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday. . . . We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?”

His eyes seemed to glow as he basked in his follower’s fear. 

“I smell guilt,” he said, his voice almost gentle. It made the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck rise. 

He was not the only one who appeared to be uncomfortable, as Voldemort spoke, a collective shudder seemed to embrace each member of the circle.

“I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact – such prompt appearances! – And I ask myself. . . why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?” 

The air remained silent, almost as if Voldemort had not spoken at all. Despite their faces being concealed, Harry could picture their fear-stricken expressions, racking their brains for the answer that would be met with the kindest punishment. 

“And I answer myself,” whispered Voldemort, “they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment. . . 

“And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?

“And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort . . . perhaps they now pay allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?”

At the mention of Dumbledore’s name, the noise began to stir amongst the circle members, some muttered while others shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them. 

“I confess myself disappointed, it appears the only one who has played their part tonight is Harry Potter.”

For a moment all the attention was on Tom Riddle’s grave where Harry hung, still restrained to the cracked headstone. He felt dizzy, from blood loss and exhaustion, part of his was amazed he had not passed out yet, while the other part of him was bewildered as to why he was still alive. 

“Master!” Shirked one of the men as he flung himself at Voldemort’s feet. “Master, forgive me, forgive us all!” 

A cold, cruel laugh came from Voldemort as he raised his wand. 

“Crucio!” 

An inhuman shriek came from the Death Eater, who was now writhing on the ground. Harry was certain the sound was loud enough to reach the surrounding houses, it had to be. 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground gasping.

“Get up, Avery,” Voldemort spoke softly. “Stand up. Do you ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive, nor do I forget. I waited thirteen years, thirteen long years. I want thirteen years of repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not Wormtail?” 

He looked down at Wormtail who continued to sob. 

“You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that don’t you?” 

“Yes, Master,” moaned Wormtail, “please, Master . . . please . . .”

“Yet you helped return me to my body,” said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. “Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me . . . and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers. . .” 

Swiftly, Voldemort raised his wand, wisps of silver-colored liquid began to mold together. Momentarily shapeless, they writhed and then formed into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail’s bleeding wrist. 

Immediately Wormtail’s cries silenced as he flexed his new hand. 

“My Lord,” he whispered. “Thank you, my Lord, it’s beautiful. . . thank you” His voice shook as he scrambled forward, kissing the hem of Voldemort’s robes. 

“May your loyalty never waive again, Wormtail.” Voldemort’s voice was soft.

Wormtail returned to his feet and quickly made his way into the circle of Death Easters. As Voldemort continued to scold his followers, Harry was slowly slipping closer to the realm of unconsciousness. He had lost a fair amount of blood, and exhaustion had begun to take over as Voldemort spoke. As pain blossomed where his scar resided, he wondered if anybody back at Hogwarts was worried about him, or if they just assumed him and Cedric were still searching for the cup. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Cedric’s limp body, it hurt too much. Harry knew it was his fault Cedric died, it was his fault that Voldemort had returned, he deserved to die. His vision was almost swallowed by the peaceful darkness that was unconscious when Voldemort said something that piqued his interest. 

“And here we have six missing Death Eaters . . . three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return . . . he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever . . . he will be killed, of course . . . and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service.”

As Harry lifted his head, he saw the Death Eaters exchange nervous glances with each other. 

“He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived here tonight. . . “Yes,” said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Harry’s direction. “Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor.”

As Voldemort spoke, fear replaced Harry’s exhaustion. The attention had returned to him as all the Death Eaters gazes fell upon him. He squirmed uncomfortably. It was silent as the Death Eater to the right of Wormtail stepped forward and began to speak. 

“Master, we crave to know . . . we beg you to tell us . . . how you have achieved this . . . this miracle . . . how you managed to return to us. . .” The nervous voice of Lucius Malfoy spoke from under the hood. 

“Ah, what a story it is, Lucius,” said Voldemort. “And it begins — and ends — with my young friend here.”  
Lazily, Voldemort walked closer to where Harry was restrained. Harry couldn’t help but struggled to break free as Voldemort neared him. 

“You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?” Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that he almost screamed in agony. “You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him — and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen. . . . I could not touch the boy.”

Voldemort raised one long white finger and put it centimeters away from Harry’s forehead. Bracing himself, Harry scrunched his eyes shut.

“His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice. This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it . . . but no matter. I can touch him now.”

With a jab of his finger, Harry was certain his head would split open from pain. He couldn’t help it as a muffled scream escaped his throat. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear as he removed his finger, returning his attention to the scattered circle of Death Eaters.   
Cold sweat soaked Harry’s body as he tried to regain his breath. The sound of Voldemort’s voice droned on in the background, dully Harry wondered how much longer the man was going to talk for. Harry could not help but listen as Voldemort spoke of possessing Professor Quirrell, he felt himself cringe as Voldemort mentioned how Harry had thwarted his previous plans. 

Silence remained after he spoke of this; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon both Voldemort and Harry.

Voldemort continued with his tale of survival. 

“And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last . . . a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumored, I was hiding . . . helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them. . .”

He paused and looked directly at Wormtail before continuing. 

“But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food . . . and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic. “Now see the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail — displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him — convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her . . . he brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams . . . for — with a little persuasion — she became a veritable mine of information. “She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me if I could only contact him. She told me many things . . . but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her.”

Voldemort flashed a cruel smile, his red eyes blank and pitiless as he continued his monologue. Harry wished he would hurry up; it was painful to listen to him speak knowing his death was inevitable. 

“As for returning to my full body, I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh gave by a servant. . . . “My father’s bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe . . . Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me . . . as so many of them still do. But I knew the one I must use if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted Harry Potter’s blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago . . . for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too. . .” 

His attention returned to Harry. 

“But how to get to Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago when it fell to him to arrange the boy’s future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy’s protection as long as he is in his relations’ care. Not even I can touch him there. . . . Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup. . . . I thought his protection might be weaker there, away from his relations and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong enough to attempt to kidnap with a horde of Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how could I take him? “Why . . . by using Bertha Jorkins’s information, of course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy’s name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament — that he touched the Triwizard Cup first — the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore’s help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is . . . the boy you all believed had been my downfall. . . .” 

Voldemort moved closer to Harry again, this time raising his wand. This is it, Harry thought as he prepared to meet the killing curse. 

“Crucio!” 

Death seemed like a better option. It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end . . . to blackout . . . to die, to be with Cedric and his parents. 

And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort’s father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters’ laughter.

“Tonight, I will prove that Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. I am going to prove my power by killing him, here, now, in front of you all. There is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger.”

He looked down at the snake, almost lovingly, which continued to circle the headstone. 

“Now, untie him Wormtail, and give him back his wand.”

Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find his feet, to support his own weight before the ropes were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand, pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone. 

There was a split second, perhaps, when Harry might have considered running for it, but his injured leg shook under him as he stood on the overgrown grave, as the Death Eaters closed ranks, forming a tighter circle around him and Voldemort, so that the gaps where the missing Death Eaters should have stood were filled. Wormtail walked out of the circle to the place where Cedric’s body lay and returned with Harry’s wand, which he thrust roughly into Harry’s hand without looking at him. Then Wormtail resumed his place in the circle of watching Death Eaters.

“You’ve been taught how to duel I assume?” Voldemorts red eyes glistened through the darkness. 

At these words Harry remembered, as though from a former life, the dueling club at Hogwarts he had attended briefly two years ago. . . . All he had learned there was the Disarming Spell, “Expelliarmus” . . . and what use would it be to deprive Voldemort of his wand, even if he could, when he was surrounded by Death Eaters, outnumbered by at least thirty to one? He had never learned anything that could possibly fit him for this. He knew he was facing the thing against which Moody had always warned . . . the unblockable Avada Kedavra curse — and Voldemort was right — his mother was not here to die for him this time. . . . He was quite unprotected. . . .

“We bow to each other, Harry,” said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. “Come, the niceties must be observed. . . . Dumbledore would like you to show manners. . . . Bow to death, Harry. . .”

The Death Eaters were laughing as Voldemort continued to humiliate him. But Harry did not bow. He was not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing him. He was not going to give him that satisfaction. 

“I said, bow,” Voldemort said, raising his wand — and Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever.

“Very good,” commended Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand the pressure bearing down upon Harry lifted too. “And now you face me, like a man . . . straight-backed and proud, the way your father died. 

“And now – we duel.” 

Before the words could even leave Harry’s lips, the Cruciatus curse was upon him. His legs gave out, sending him sprawling to the ground, writhing in agony. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was. White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he had ever screamed in his life —

And then it stopped. Harry didn’t know how he hadn’t passed out yet, his body shook uncontrollably as he tried to stand. It was pointless, his injured leg could barely take his weight, sending him sprawling into the wall of Death Eaters who pushed him away, back towards Voldemort. 

“A little break,” said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, “a little pause . . . That hurt, didn’t it, Harry? You don’t want me to do that again, do you?”

Harry refused to answer as Voldemort’s cold red eyes bore into his own. He was going to die, slaughtered like an animal, just like Cedric, like his parents, and so many innocent others whom Voldemort deemed fit for death. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. . . but if he were to die, then he was going to die with dignity, he was going to make sure that Cedric didn’t die for anything. At that moment he promised himself he would use every last ounce of his strength to fight Voldemort like a man as his father did for him. 

“I asked you whether you want me to do that again,” said Voldemort softly. “Answer me! Imperio!”

For the third time in his life, Harry felt the blissful effect of the Imperius curse wash over him. It was wonderful, to not think, to not feel anything, part of him wished he could have stayed in his haze forever. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳. . . 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰. . . 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰. . . 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰.   
I will not spoke the crisp, clear voice of Tom Riddle that seemed to come from the depths of his subconscious. I will not answer. . . 

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰...

I will not do it; I won’t say it.

𝘚𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰...

“I WON’T”

These words burst from Harry’s mouth, echoing throughout the still graveyard as the blissful dreamlike state faded. Suddenly the reality of where he was and who he was with returned to Harry. The aching sensation caused by the Cruciatus curse had returned in full force as Voldemort’s red eyes peered into his own. 

“You won’t?” said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now. “You won’t say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die. Perhaps another little dose of pain?” 

Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was ready; with the reflexes born of his Quidditch training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground; he rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort’s father, and he heard it crack as the curse missed him. 

“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. “You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry . . . come out and play, then . . . it will be quick . . . it might even be painless . . . I would not know . . . I have never died.”

As Harry crouched behind the headstone, he silently tried to regulate his breathing. Part of him so desperately wanted to run, be hit in the back with the killing curse rather than face Voldemort. Quickly peering to the side of the headstone he caught a glimpse of Cedric. 𝘐 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮; 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. Taking a deep breath, Harry stood up. He would not die cowering behind Tom Riddles's grave, he would die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense were possible.

Gripping his wand tightly, Harry threw himself from out behind the headstone, now facing Voldemort. 

Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted “Expelliarmus! Voldemort cried “Avada Kedavra!”

A jet of green light burst from Voldemort’s wand just as red light had from Harry’s. As they met in midair, Harry’s wand began to vibrate as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn’t have released it if he’d wanted to — and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort’s long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.  
And then — nothing could have prepared Harry for this — he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort’s father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves. . . . The Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, reforming the circle around Harry and Voldemort, the snake slithering at their heels, some of them drawing their wands —

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now. . . .  
“Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry’s; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. “Do nothing unless I command you!” Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.  
And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air. . . . It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a sound Harry recognized, though he had heard it only once before in his life: phoenix song. It was the sound of hope to Harry . . . the most beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard in his life. . . . He felt as though the song were inside him instead of just around him. . . . It was the sound he connected with Dumbledore, and it was almost as though a friend were speaking in his ear. . . . 

Don’t break the connection.

I know, Harry told the music, I know I mustn’t . . . but no sooner had he thought it than the thing became much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever . . . and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed too . . . it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands — Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way. . . . The direction of the beam’s movement was now toward him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand shudder angrily. . . .

As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry’s wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead moved, the harder Harry’s wand vibrated; he was sure his wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under his fingers —

He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed . . . and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way . . . and it was Voldemort’s wand that was intensely vibrating now . . . Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful. . . .   
One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemort’s wand. Harry didn’t understand why he was doing it, didn’t know what it might achieve . . . but he now concentrated as he had never done in his life on forcing that bead of light right back into Voldemort’s wand . . . and slowly . . . very slowly . . . it moved along the golden thread . . . it trembled for a moment. . . and then it connected. . . .

At once, Voldemort’s wand began to emit echoing screams of pain . . . then — Voldemort’s red eyes widened with shock — a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished . . . the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail . . . more shouts of pain . . . and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort’s wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the most solid, densest smoke. . . . It was ahead . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory.  
If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort’s wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke. 

“Keep holding on Harry, if anybody can win this, it’s you,” its voice was soft and kind, exactly as Cedric’s had been. 

Harry looked at Voldemort . . . his wide red eyes were still shocked . . . he had no more expected this than Harry had . . . and, very dimly, Harry heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the golden dome. . . .  
More screams of pain from the wand . . . and then something else emerged from its tip . . . the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso . . . an old man Harry had seen only in a dream was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done . . . and his ghost, or his shadow, or whatever it was, fell next to Cedric’s, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick. . . .

He was a real wizard, then?” the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. “Killed me, that one did. . . . You fight him, boy. . . .”

But already, yet another head was emerging . . . and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman’s. . . . Harry, both arms shaking now as he fought to keep his wand still, saw her drop to the ground and straighten up like the others, staring. . . .  
The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes.

“Don’t let go, now!” she cried, and her voice echoed like Cedric’s as though from very far away. “Don’t let him get you, Harry — don’t let go!”

She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it . . . and Voldemort’s dead victims whispered as they circled the duelers, whispered words of encouragement to Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn’t hear to Voldemort.

And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort’s wand . . . and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be . . . he knew, as though he had expected it from the moment when Cedric had appeared from the wand . . . knew, because the woman was the one he’d thought of more than any other tonight. . . .

The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at him . . . and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his mother. 

“Your father’s coming . . .” she said quietly. “Hold on for your father . . . it will be all right . . . hold on. . . .” Her voice was so soft, so loving, it made Harry’s chest ache. 

And he came . . . first his head, then his body . . . tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort’s wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear. . . .

“When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments . . . but we will give you time . . . you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts . . . do you understand, Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry gasped, fighting to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding between his fingers.

“Harry,” whispered the voice of Cedric. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry’s voice caught in his throat as his eyes broke from Voldemort and met the pale, glassy eyes of Cedric. 

Cedric smiled at him. “Take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents and tell them I love them.” 

“I will,” said Harry, not wanting to turn away from Cedric, not wanting his presence to leave.”

“You are so brave sweetheart, you are ready.” Lily Potter’s voice rang through his ears. 

“Do it now,” whispered the voice of his father. “Be ready to run, do it now!”

“NOW!” Harry yelled; he didn’t think he could have held on for another moment anyway — he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died — but the shadowy figures of Voldemort’s victims did not disappear — they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze —

And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones — he was dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric’s body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do —  
“Stun him!” he heard Voldemort scream.

Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dove behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel —  
“Impedimenta!” he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him.

From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was no time to stop and look; he jumped over the cup and dove as he heard more wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, mustering every ounce of adrenaline he had, he threw himself on top of Cedric’s body. 

“Stand aside! I will kill him! He’s mine!” Shrieked Voldemort.

Raising his wand and pointing it at the Triwizard cup, Harry cried, “Accio!” 

It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle —

He heard Voldemort’s scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked — it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him. . . . They had made it, they were going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bummer :( I honestly struggled writing this because I wanted to keep it canon but also show the impact Cedrics death had on Harry. As much as I hate JK R*wling I think Harry's reaction to everything that occurred in the graveyard was pretty accurate, I mean he's just a kid like how can you even begin to process all of the trauma that took place. While this chapter is grim, I promise the story will end on a happy(ish) note. Anyways I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it's much longer than normal which hopefully makes up for my lack of posing. Don't be afraid to leave a kudos and a comment :)


	15. I still taste the past

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his body slam into the earth. If he opened his eyes then it would be real, Cedric’s body, Voldemort’s return, his own flight from death. It was all too much, he thought as he pressed his sweat-soaked face into the soft fabric of Cedric’s shirt. 

It came out in barely a whisper, “please, come back.” 

His own body felt so heavy, so weak as he wrapped his arms tightly around Cedric. Harry could do nothing but let the cheerful noise of the crowd drown out his own soft sobs. It felt like an eternity had passed since he entered the maze, he had been so naïve, so selfless, he was not sure if he would ever be the same again. 

Abruptly the outside noise began to dim as a high-pitched scream echoed from the crowd. Despite both arms being wrapped around Cedric, the handle of the portkey remained in his grasp. It felt impossible to let go of either, or if he did, Harry was certain he would slide away into the heavy feeling that seemed to be engulfing his whole body. Shock and exhaustion kept him here, pressed against Cedric, silently praying for death. Death seemed easier than this than having to open his eyes and greet the reality that awaited him. Cedric was dead because of him. Voldemort had risen again because of him. It felt harder to breathe, to remain conscious as the realism of what had happened began to seep in. It was not until he felt a rough pair of hands-on him did, he frantically began to writhe. Maybe he couldn't protect Cedric in this life, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let anything happen to him now. 

“Harry! Harry!” The familiar voice of Albus Dumbledore rang through his ears. 

He forced his eyes open. He reappeared at the edge of the maze, mere feet from where the narrow entrance stood. He knew he had to look at Cedric. Slowly lifting his head from where it lay on the boy's chest, he stared into Cedric’s horrified expression. It was too much; he could not look any longer as he closed his eyes again and hugged his body tighter than before. 

“It’s alright, you’re safe.” Dumbledore’s voice was soft, kind, as he gently pressed his hand on Harry’s back.

Opening his eyes again, a horrific noise escaped Harry’s throat. It was real, Cedric was dead, Voldemort was back and there was nothing Harry could do. 

“He’s back,” his voice was hoarse as he met Dumbledore’s eyes. “Voldemort is back.” 

“What’s going on? What’s happened?” 

Harry caught a glimpse of Cornelius’s Fudge’s face, it looked white, appalled.

“My God — Diggory!” it whispered. “Dumbledore — he’s dead!”

The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on them gasped it to those around them . . . and then others shouted it — screeched it — into the night — “He’s dead!” “He’s dead!” “Cedric Diggory! Dead!”

“Harry, let go of him,” he heard Fudge’s voice say, and he felt fingers trying to pry him from Cedric’s limp body, but Harry wouldn’t let him go, he couldn’t. Then Dumbledore’s face, which was still blurred and misted, came closer.

“Harry, you can’t help him. It is over. Let go.” 

Their words only made Harry tighten his grip on Cedric's body. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮, Dumbledore’s words only made Harry sob harder, they didn’t experience what he saw, they didn’t know what happened. 

“He wanted me to bring his body back,” Harry's voice was unsteady, frantic as he tried to explain this, he needed them to know. “He wanted me to bring him back to his dad, I couldn’t leave him, not there.” His vision was blurred by tears. 

“That’s right, Harry. . . just let go now.”

𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘰. Flashes of his parents, of Cedric, replayed in his mind. Of them cheering him on, of Cedric’s final words, of them saving him.

Dumbledore bent down, and with strength extraordinary for a man so old and thin, raised Harry from the ground and set him on his feet. Harry swayed. His head pounded as his injured leg throbbed. The crowd around them jostled, fighting to get closer, pressing darkly in on him — “What’s happened?” “What’s wrong with him?” “Diggory’s dead!” 

“He’ll need to go to the hospital wing, he’s hurt.” Fudge’s voice rang out loudly. 

“He’s ill, he’s injured — Dumbledore, Diggory’s father, is here, he's in the stands. . . .”

“I’ll take Harry, Dumbledore, I’ll take him —”

Harry felt so exhausted, so disoriented, the voice who spoke sounded so familiar but he couldn’t seem to put him to a face. 

“No, I would prefer —”

“Dumbledore, Amos Diggory’s running . . . he’s coming over. . . . Don’t you think you should tell him — before he sees — ?”

“Harry, stay here —”

Harry did not think he would ever be able to forget the painful screams of Amos Diggory as he held Cedric’s body. He knew they would soon accompany his nightmares just like Cedric would. He deserved to be haunted by them, it was his fault Amos lost a son, his fault his house would remain quiet, no longer occupied by Cedric’s delicate piano playing. It was Harry’s fault Cedric would not get to grow up, forever frozen in time as a boy of seventeen. 

“I’m sorry.” The words melted into the night air; Harry found himself hoping that wherever Cedric was he could hear him. 

“It’s all right, son, I’ve got you . . . come on . . . hospital wing . . .” 

“Dumbledore said stay,” said Harry thickly, the pounding in his scar making him feel as though he was about to throw up; his vision was blurring worse than ever. 

“You need to lie down. . . . Come on now. . . .”

Someone larger and stronger than he was half pulling, half carrying him through the frightened crowd. Harry heard people gasping, screaming, and shouting as the man supporting him pushed a path through them, taking him back to the castle. Across the lawn, past the lake, and the Durmstrang ship, Harry heard nothing but the heavy breathing of the man helping him walk.

“What happened, Harry?” the man asked at last as he lifted Harry up the stone steps. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. It was Mad-Eye Moody.

A wave of panic washed over Harry, this wasn’t right, Dumbledore told him to wait, he shouldn’t be here, not with him. 

“No, not you,” was all that Harry could manage to say, he had to get away from Moody, he needed to be anywhere but here. 

“I can help you, just tell me what you saw Potter.” His voice sounded almost soft; it was unnerving. 

“Cup was a portkey.” Harry did know why he was speaking, he knew he shouldn’t, but the words seemed to tumble out of his mouth as if he wasn’t in control of his own body. “Took me and Cedric to a graveyard. . . and Voldemort was there. . . Lord Voldemort.”

Once again, Harry had no idea how he was still conscious as he continued to climb the marble stairs with Moody behind him.

“The Dark Lord was there? What happened then?”

“Killed Cedric. . . they killed Cedric.” The emerald flash seemed to replay over and over in Harry’s mind, a moment ingrained in time.

“And then?” His voice held no remorse.

“Made a potion. . . got his body back.” Harry’s words slurred; he was so tired.

“The Dark Lord got his body back? He’s returned?”

“And the Death Eaters came . . . and then we dueled. . . .”

“You dueled with the Dark Lord?”

“Got away . . . my wand . . . did something funny. . . . I saw Cedric and my mum and dad . . . they came out of his wand. . . .”

“Drink it . . . you’ll feel better . . . come on, now, Harry, I need to know exactly what happened. . . .”

Moody helped tip the stuff down Harry’s throat; he coughed, a peppery taste burning his throat. Moody’s office came into sharper focus, and so did Moody himself. . . . He looked as white as Fudge had looked, and both eyes were fixed unblinkingly upon Harry’s face. It made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, he shouldn’t be here.

“Voldemort’s back, Harry? You’re sure he’s back? How did he do it?”

“I need to tell Dumbledore.” Harry’s words sounded frantic as he forced himself up. 

Anger flickered over Moody’s face as Harry tried to put weight on his injured leg, sending him collapsing to the ground. Once again Moody’s rough hands were on him, pulling him up and back to his seat. 

“How did he do it?” His voice was rougher this time.

Harry knew he was out of options; he couldn’t walk and there was currently little stopping Voldemort from hunting him down and killing him at any moment. 

“He took stuff from his father’s grave, and from Wormtail, and me,” said Harry. His head felt clearer; his scar wasn’t hurting so badly; he could now see Moody’s face distinctly, even though the office was dark. He could still hear screaming and shouting from the distant Quidditch field.

“What did the Dark Lord take from you?” said Moody.

“Blood,” said Harry, raising his arm. His sleeve was ripped where Wormtail’s dagger had torn it. The cut was deep, it probably would never fully heal, leaving a scar. He had cheated death once more, but Voldemort had marked him, it would be a constant reminder that to cheat was not to beat. Harry knew he would have to face him again whether he wanted to or not.

Moody let out his breath in a long, low hiss.

“And the Death Eaters? They returned?”

“Yes,” said Harry. “Loads of them . . .”

“How did he treat them?” Moody asked quietly. “Did he forgive them?” 

But Harry had suddenly remembered. He should have told Dumbledore; he should have said it straight away —

“There’s a Death Eater at Hogwarts! There’s a Death Eater here — they put my name in the Goblet of Fire, they made sure I got through to the end —”

“I know who the Death Eater is,” he said quietly.

“Karkaroff?” said Harry wildly, he was the only known Death Eater beside Snape who Harry could think of. “Where is he? Have you got him? Is he locked up?”

“Karkaroff?” said Moody with an odd laugh. “Karkaroff fled tonight when he felt the Dark Mark burn upon his arm. He betrayed too many faithful supporters of the Dark Lord to wish to meet them . . . but I doubt he will get far. The Dark Lord has ways of tracking his enemies.” 

“Karkaroff’s gone? Did he run away? But then — he didn’t put my name in the goblet?”

“No,” said Moody slowly. “No, he didn’t. It was I who did that.” Harry heard, but did not believe. He knew something was off about Moody, but actually hearing the words roll off his tongue made Harry feel like all the wind had been knocked out of his chest. 

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “You didn’t do that . . . you can’t have done . . .” Harry’s mind felt blank as he stared into Moody’s eye. There was no possible way he had escaped Voldemort just to fall right back into his clutch. He was almost certain that he would never get that lucky again when it came to facing the Dark Lord.

“I assure you I did,” said Moody, and his magical eye swung around and fixed upon the door, and Harry knew he was making sure that there was no one outside it. At the same time, Moody drew out his wand and pointed it at Harry.

“He forgave them, then?” he said. “The Death Eaters who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?”

“What?” Said Harry, racking his brain for any ideas on how to escape.

He was looking at the wand Moody was pointing at him. This was a bad joke, it had to be.

“I asked you,” said Moody quietly, “whether he forgave the scum who never even went to look for him. Those treacherous cowards who wouldn’t even brave Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the Quidditch World Cup but fled at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky.”

“You fired. . . What are you talking about?” 

“I told you, Harry . . . I told you. If there’s one thing I hate more than any other, it’s a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them most. I expected him to punish them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me he hurt them, Harry. . . .” Moody’s face was suddenly lit with an insane smile. “Tell me he told them that I, I alone remained faithful . . . prepared to risk everything to deliver to him the one thing he wanted above all . . . you.”

“You didn’t . . . it — it can’t be you. . . .” The only defense mechanism that remained to Harry was to stall Moody long enough until someone noticed Harry was gone, someone had to have noticed Harry was gone, right?

“Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school? I did. Who frightened off every person I thought might try to hurt you or prevent you from winning the tournament? I did. Who nudged Hagrid into showing you the dragons? ”

Moody’s magical eye had now left the door. It was fixed upon Harry. His lopsided mouth leered more widely than ever. It was all too much, the maze, Cedric, Voldemort, now this, Harry didn’t think he would ever fully recover from this night if he managed to somehow make it out alive.

“It hasn’t been easy, making sure that it was you who reached to cup first. As long as you got into that maze, preferably with a decent head start — then, I knew, I would have a chance of getting rid of the other champions and leaving your way clear. But I also had to contend with your stupidity. The second task . . . that was when I was most afraid, we would fail. I was keeping a watch on you, Potter. I knew you hadn’t worked out the egg’s clue, so I had to give you another hint —” 

“You didn’t,” Harry said hoarsely. “Cedric gave me the clue —”

“Who told Cedric to open it underwater? I did. I trusted that he would pass the information on to you. Decent people are so easy to manipulate, Potter. I was sure since Cedric took you under his wing, he would tell you, and so he did. But even then, Potter, you seemed too likely to fail.”

He could hardly process Moody’s words, as his wand was still pointed directly at Harry’s chest. Over his shoulder, foggy shapes were moving in the Foe-Glass on the wall.

“You were so long in that lake, Potter, I thought you had drowned. But luckily, Dumbledore took your idiocy for nobility and marked you high for it. I breathed again.” He paused; his eyes glazed with a sick sort of insanity.

“You had an easier time of it than you should have in that maze tonight, of course,” said Moody. “I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I Stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. I put the Imperius Curse on Krum so that he would finish Diggory and leave your path to the cup clear.”

“You cursed Krum?” The words came out in barely a whisper as Cedric’s pained screams replayed in his mind, and the fear he felt as he frantically crawled through the hedge to reach him, to try and help him. 

The foggy shapes in the Foe-Glass were sharpening, had become more distinct. Harry could see the outlines of three people over Moody’s shoulder, moving closer and closer. But Moody wasn’t watching them. His magical eye was upon Harry. 

“The Dark Lord didn’t manage to kill you, Potter, and he so wanted to,” whispered Moody. “Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I gave you to him — the thing he needed above all to regenerate — and then I killed you for him. I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter . . . closer than a son. . . .”

Moody’s normal eye was bulging, the magical eye fixed upon Harry. The door was barred, and Harry knew he would never reach his own wand in time. . . .

“The Dark Lord and I,” said Moody, and he looked completely insane now, towering over Harry, leering down at him, “have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers . . . very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure . . . the very great pleasure . . . of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!”

“You’re mad,” Harry said — he couldn’t stop himself — “you’re mad!” The same fear that had consumed him back in the graveyard had returned. 

“Mad, am I?” said Moody, his voice rising uncontrollably. “We’ll see! We’ll see who’s mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him — and now — I conquer you!” 

Moody raised his wand; he opened his mouth; Harry plunged his own hand into his robes — 

“Stupefy!” There was a blinding flash of red light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Moody’s office was blasted apart — 

Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor. Harry, still staring at the place where Moody’s face had been, saw Albus Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall looking back at him out of the Foe-Glass. He looked around and saw the three of them standing in the doorway, Dumbledore in front, his wand outstretched. 

For the first time in his life did Harry truly understands why Dumbledore was the only wizard who Voldemort seemed to fear. The man who so often held such a kind, soft demeanor, now stood in front of Harry radiating power. The look upon Dumbledore’s face as he stared down at the unconscious form of Mad-Eye Moody was more terrible than Harry could have ever imagined. There was no benign smile upon Dumbledore’s face, no twinkle in the eyes behind the spectacles.

He stepped into the office, placed a foot underneath Moody’s unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back so that his face was visible. Snape followed him, looking into the Foe-Glass, where his own face was still visible, glaring into the room. Professor McGonagall went straight to Harry.

“Come along Potter, you shouldn’t have to see this.” Her voice was soft as if she were trying to relieve the tension in the room. Harry wanted to say something to her but found himself unable to do anything but stare at the unconscious body of Alastor Moody.

“No,” said Dumbledore sharply. “Dumbledore, he ought to — look at him — he’s been through enough tonight —” 

Harry did not think he would be able to stand up even if he wanted to. The pain and exhaustion were returning to him, accompanied by the realization that everything that happened tonight was real, Cedric, possibly the kindest, most gentle person he had ever met was dead.

“Dumbledore, he ought to — look at him — he’s been through enough tonight —”

“He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand,” said Dumbledore curtly. “Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why.”

Harry knew that Dumbledore was right, he needed to know what happened and why, but never in his life had he wanted to simply vanish into nothingness than right now. At this very moment, Harry Potter wished he were dead. 

“Moody.” The name was barely audible; Harry’s throat was so sore from screaming it had become painful to talk. 

“This is not Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore quietly. “You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew — and I followed.”

Despite the exhaustion and sadness, anger was now burning in Harry’s chest. Both him and Cedric had gone to Dumbledore with their concerns over Moody and he did nothing but brush them off. If he had acted then, when they came to him, Cedric would still be alive. This was his fault.

“We told you, and you did nothing.” Harry’s voice nothing more than a whisper as his eyes met with Dumbledore’s. 

The old man's face had resumed its soft appearance, as he met Harry’s cold, empty stare. He looked deeply saddened as he spoke. 

“I am sorry, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes were beginning to burn with tears as his gaze fell to the floor. 

“He’s dead because of you.” Deep down Harry knew it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t, not yet accept the fact that Cedric Diggory had died because of him. 

Dumbledore bent down over Moody’s limp form and put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody’s hip flask and a set of keys on a ring. Then he turned to Professors McGonagall and Snape.

“Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid’s house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here.”

If either Snape or McGonagall found these instructions peculiar, they hid their confusion. Both turned at once and left the office. Dumbledore walked over to the trunk with seven locks, fitted the first key in the lock, and opened it. It contained a mass of spellbooks. Dumbledore closed the trunk, placed the second key in the second lock, and opened the trunk again. The spell books had vanished; this time it contained an assortment of broken Sneakoscopes, some parchment and quills, and what looked like a silvery Invisibility Cloak. Harry watched, astounded, as Dumbledore placed the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth keys in their respective locks, reopening the trunk, and each time revealing different contents. Then he placed the seventh key in the lock, threw open the lid, Harry felt himself shrink backward as he peered inside.

He was looking down into a kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, apparently fast asleep, thin and starved in appearance, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing. Harry stared, thunderstruck, between the sleeping Moody in the trunk and the unconscious Moody lying on the floor of the office.

Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowered himself, and fell lightly onto the floor beside the sleeping Moody. He bent over him. “Stunned — controlled by the Imperius Curse — very weak,” he said. 

“Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Harry, throw down the imposter’s cloak — he’s freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger.”

Harry did as he was told; Dumbledore covered Moody in the cloak, tucked it around him, and clambered out of the trunk again. Then he picked up the hip flask that stood upon the desk, unscrewed it, and turned it over. A thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor. 

“Polyjuice Potion, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “You see the simplicity of it and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except his hip flask, he’s well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair . . .” Dumbledore looked down on the Moody in the trunk. “The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done . . . on the hour . . . every hour. . . . We shall see.” 

Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down upon it, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor. Harry stared at him too. Minutes passed in tense silence. . . .

Desperately Harry wanted to be anywhere but here, his whole body ached, and his eyes felt heavy with exhaustion. He found himself praying that he would be able to rest before Dumbledore insisted on hearing every detail of what had transpired. It felt strange, how in a matter of hours so much could change, wishing Cedric good luck as they entered the maze seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Suddenly, without warning, the face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled gray hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning the color of straw. Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place; next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man’s face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.

The man lying on the floor could only be described as the spitting image of a much younger Barty Crouch. There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. Snape had returned with Winky at his heels. Professor McGonagall was right behind them.

“Crouch!” Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. “Barty Crouch!” His face seemed to pale.

“Good heavens,” said Professor McGonagall, stopping dead and staring down at the man on the floor.

For a moment, the four of them and Winky all just stared in silence at the stunned man before them. 

Dumbledore’s calm voice broke the almost uncomfortable silence. “Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?”

Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle of completely clear liquid: the Veritaserum with which he had threatened Harry in class. Dumbledore got up, bent over the man on the floor, and pulled him into a sitting position against the wall beneath the Foe-Glass, in which the reflections of Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall were still glaring down upon them all. Winky remained on her knees, trembling, her hands over her face. Dumbledore forced the man’s mouth open and poured three drops inside it. Then he pointed his wand at the man’s chest and said, “Rennervate.”

Crouch’s son opened his eyes. His face was slack, his gaze unfocused. 

Dumbledore knelt before him so that their faces were level. “Can you hear me?” Dumbledore asked quietly.

The man’s eyelids flickered. “Yes,” he muttered.

“I would like you to tell us,” said Dumbledore softly, “how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?”

Despite Crouch’s raspy voice recounting how he escaped Azkaban, Harry found himself unable to listen. Memories of the graveyard were overwhelming him, Cedric was dead, Voldemort was back, he himself should have died. Time seemed to move differently, before he could even begin to comprehend the Moody situation, he found himself sitting in Dumbledore’s office, a large black dog sitting to the right of him. 

His body was shaking uncontrollably, he wanted to be anywhere but here. He spoke the first words that entered his conscious mind.

“Where is Mr. Diggory?” Harry’s voice was raspy.

“He is with Professor Sprout,” said Dumbledore. His voice, which had been so calm throughout the interrogation of Barty Crouch, shook very slightly for the first time. “She was Head of Cedric’s house, and knew him best.”

Despite being the only one to witness Cedric’s death, it still felt like he was alive. It seemed like there was nothing preventing Harry from walking to the courtyard and being greeted by Cedric’s warm smile. It didn’t seem real that he would never see him again, it couldn’t be real. 

“Sirius?” Harry turned his head slightly, where he was greeted by the pale, rugged face of his Godfather.

Sirius’s hands shook ever so slightly as he softly touched Harry’s arm. 

“Are you alright Harry?” His Godfather’s voice was soft.

All Harry could do was shake his head, despite not remember the walk from Moody’s office to Dumbledore’s, he knew why he was here, to relive the worst night of his life. 

“What happened?” Sirius’s voice held anxiety as he turned his gaze from Harry to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore began to tell Sirius everything Barty Crouch had said. Harry was only half-listening, so tired every bone in his body was aching, he wanted nothing more than to sit here, undisturbed, for hours and hours, until he fell asleep and didn’t have to think or feel anymore.

There was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes the phoenix had left his perch, flown across the office, and landed on Harry’s knee.

“Lo, Fawkes,” said Harry quietly. He stroked the phoenix’s beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. Fawkes blinked peacefully up at him. There was something comforting about his warm weight.

Dumbledore stopped talking. He sat down opposite Harry, behind his desk. He was looking at Harry, who avoided his eyes. Dumbledore was going to question him. He was going to make Harry relive everything.

“I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry,” said Dumbledore.

“We can leave that till morning, can’t we, Dumbledore?” said Sirius harshly. He had put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Let him sleep, let him rest.”

Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward Sirius, but Dumbledore took no notice of Sirius’s words. He leaned forward toward Harry. Very unwillingly, Harry raised his head and looked into those blue eyes, feeling nothing but exhaustion and sadness.

“If I thought I could help you,” Dumbledore said gently, “by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened.”

The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air, and Harry felt as though a drop of hot liquid had slipped down his throat into his stomach, warming him, and strengthening him.

He took a deep breath and began to tell them. As he spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night seemed to rise before his eyes; he saw the sparkling surface of the potion that had revived Voldemort; he saw the Death Eaters Apparating between the graves around them; he saw Cedric’s lifeless body, lying on the ground beside the cup.

Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry’s shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and Harry was glad of this because it was easier to keep going now he had started. It was even a relief; he felt almost as though something poisonous was being extracted from him. It was costing him every bit of determination he had to keep talking, yet he sensed that once he had finished, he would feel better.

When Harry told of Wormtail piercing his arm with the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement exclamation and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry started. Dumbledore walked around the desk and told Harry to stretch out his arm. Harry showed them both the place where his sleeve was torn and the cut beneath it.

“He said my blood would make him stronger than if he’d used someone else’s,” Harry told Dumbledore. “He said the protection my — my mother left in me — he’d have it too. And he was right — he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.”  
For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes. But next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him.

Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron and told them all he could remember of Voldemort’s speech to the Death Eaters. Then he told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel.  
But when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his and Voldemort’s wands, he found his throat obstructed. He tried to keep talking, but the memories of what had come out of Voldemort’s wand were flooding into his mind. He could see Cedric emerging, see the old man, Bertha Jorkins . . . his father . . . his mother.

He was glad when Sirius broke the silence, knowing he would not be able to explain any further without crying. For a moment, he closed his eyes and was lost in the memory of Cedric, his mother and father all beside him, cheering him on, saving his life.  
“The wands connected?” he said, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. “Why?”

Harry opened his eyes and looked up at Dumbledore again, on whose face there was an arrested look.

“Priori Incantatem,” he muttered.

His eyes gazed into Harry’s and it was almost as though an invisible beam of understanding shot between them.

“The Reverse Spell effect?” Sirius spoke sharply.

“Exactly,” said Dumbledore. “Harry’s wand and Voldemort’s wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact,” he added, and he pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird, perching peacefully on Harry’s knee.

“So, what happens when a wand meets its brother?” asked Sirius.

“They will not work properly against each other,” said Dumbledore. “If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle . . . a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed — in reverse. The most recent first . . . and then those which preceded it. . . .”

He looked interrogatively at Harry, and Harry nodded.

“Which means,” said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes upon Harry’s face, “that some form of Cedric must have reappeared.”

Harry nodded as Cedric’s final whisper to him replayed in his mind. 

“Diggory came back to life?” said Sirius sharply.

“No spell can reawaken the dead,” said Dumbledore heavily. “All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand . . . am I correct, Harry?”

“He spoke to me,” Harry said. He was suddenly shaking again. “The . . . the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke, he told me it wasn’t my fault.” Harry felt his eyes burn as he spoke of Cedric.

“An echo,” said Dumbledore, “which retained Cedric’s appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared . . . less recent victims of Voldemort’s wand. . . .” 

“An old man,” Harry said, his throat still constricted. “Bertha Jorkins. And . . .”

“Your parents?” Asked Dumbledore quietly.

Harry silently nodded, Sirius’s grip on his shoulder was now so tight it was painful.

“The last murders the wand performed,” said Dumbledore, nodding. “In reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows . . . what did they do?”

Harry described how the figures that had emerged from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the shadow of Harry’s father had told him what to do, how Cedric’s had made its final request.

At this point, Harry found he could not continue. He looked around at Sirius and saw that he had his face in his hands.  
Harry suddenly became aware that Fawkes had left his knee. The phoenix had fluttered to the floor. It was resting its beautiful head against Harry’s injured leg, and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes onto the wound left by the spider. The pain vanished. The skin mended. His leg was repaired.

“I will say it again,” said Dumbledore as the phoenix rose into the air and resettled itself upon the perch beside the door. “You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard’s burden and found yourself equal to it — and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you to return to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace . . . Sirius, would you like to stay with him?”

Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into the great black dog and walked with Harry and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing. When Dumbledore pushed open the door, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of them whipped around as Harry, Dumbledore, and the black dog entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream.

“Harry! Oh, Harry!”

She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them. 

“Molly,” he said, holding up a hand, “please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him,” he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, “you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.” 

Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed,   
“Did you hear? He needs quiet!” 

“Headmaster,” said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, “may I ask what — ?”

“This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while,” said Dumbledore simply. “I assure you; he is extremely well trained. Harry — I will wait while you get into bed.”

Harry felt an inexpressible sense of gratitude to Dumbledore for asking the others not to question him. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want them there; but the thought of explaining it all over again, the idea of reliving it one more time, was more than he could stand.

“I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school.” He left.

As Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed, he caught sight of the real Moody lying motionless in a bed at the far end of the room. His wooden leg and magical eye were lying on the bedside table.

“Is he okay?” Harry asked.

“He’ll be fine,” said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry some pajamas and pulling screens around him. He took off his robes, pulled on the pajamas, and got into bed. Ron, Hermione, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and the black dog came around the screen and settled themselves in chairs on either side of him. Ron and Hermione were looking at him almost cautiously, as though scared of him.

Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet.

“You’ll need to drink all of this, Harry,” she said. “It’s a potion for dreamless sleep.”

As Harry took a sip from the goblet, drowsiness began to settle over him. As he closed his eyes and welcomed sleep, he could have sworn he heard the soft, melodic song of the piano as he dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch! This chapter was tough, while I despise JK, I think her portrayal of Harry repressing Cedric's death is pretty accurate, I mean he's fourteen and witnessed something truly horrible. Anyways I hope you all enjoy, the final chapter probably won't be up for a bit because I have finals around the corner and am a bit stressed, but I think you guys are going to enjoy the ending. Love you all, don't be afraid to drop a kudos or comment :)


	16. What we are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little context, this chapter takes place during The Deathly Hallows :)

Harry Potter, the boy who lived, had to die. Despite facing death more times than anybody should, nothing could have prepared him to hear the words from the memory of Dumbledore. He should have felt every emotion, he had to die, yet Harry only felt a dull ache in his chest. He never had a choice, not in life or death.

Lying with his face pressed into the dusty carpet of the office where he had once thought he was learning the secrets of victory, Harry understood at last that he was not supposed to survive. His job was to walk calmly into Death’s welcoming arms. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort’s remaining links to live, so that when at last he flung himself across Voldemort’s path and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric’s Hollow would be finished: neither would live, neither could survive. 

He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop, and soon. Its beats were numbered. How many would there be time for, as he rose and walked through the castle for the last time, out into the grounds and into the Forest?

Not moving from the floor, fear began to wash over Harry. Would it hurt to die? What had he done in a past life to suffer so much in this one? What was after death? All those times he had thought that it was about to happen and escaped, he had never really thought of the thing itself: his will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death. Yet it did not occur to him now to try to escape, to outrun Voldemort. It was over, he knew it, and all that was left was the thing itself: dying.

If he could only have died on that summer’s night when he had left number four, Privet Drive for the last time when the noble phoenix feather wand had saved him! If he could only have died like Hedwig, so quickly he would not have known it had happened! Or if he could have launched himself in front of a wand to save someone, he loved … he envied even his parents’ and Cedric’s deaths now. This cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery. He felt his fingers trembling slightly and tried to control them, although no one could see him; the portraits on the walls were all empty. 

Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive, and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart? It would all be gone … or at least, he would be gone from it. His breath came slow and deep, and his mouth and throat were completely dry, but so were his eyes.

Dumbledore’s betrayal was almost nothing. Of course, there had been a bigger plan; Harry had simply been too foolish to see it, he realized that now. He had never questioned his own assumption that Dumbledore wanted him alive. Now he saw that his lifespan had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying them to him, and obediently he had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort but himself, to life! How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the dangerous task to the boy who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not be a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort.

And Dumbledore had known that Harry would not duck out, that he would keep going to the end, even though it was his end, because he had taken the trouble to get to know him, hadn’t he? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Harry would not let anyone else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it. The images of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks lying dead in the Great Hall forced their way back into his mind’s eye, and for a moment he could hardly breathe: Death was impatient …

But Dumbledore had overestimated him. He had failed: the snake survived. One Horcrux remained to bind Voldemort to the earth, even after Harry had been killed. True, that would mean an easier job for somebody. He wondered who would do it … Ron and Hermione would know what needed to be done, of course … that would have been why Dumbledore wanted him to confide in two others … so that if he fulfilled his true destiny a little early, they could carry on …

Like rain on a cold window, these thoughts pattered against the hard surface of the incontrovertible truth, which was that he must die. I must die. It must end.

Standing up, Harry tightly pulled the invisibility cloak around himself, he didn’t think he had to courage to look Ron and Hermione in the eyes and tell them what he heads learned. The walk from the castle only made Harry’s heartbeat even louder, an eerie silence hung in the air, it made him feel sick. As the Forbidden Forest came into sight, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. A swarm of dementors was gliding amongst the trees; he could feel their chill, and he was not sure he would be able to pass safely through it. He had no strength left for a Patronus. He could no longer control his own trembling. It was not, after all, so easy to die. Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second. At the same time, he thought that he would not be able to go on, and knew that he must. The long game was ended, the Snitch had been caught, it was time to leave the air …

The Snitch. His nerveless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his neck and he pulled it out.

I open at the close

Harry’s breath hitched as he read the engraving. Now that he wanted time to move as slowly as possible, it seemed to have sped up, and understanding was coming so fast it seemed to have bypassed thought. This was the close. This was the moment.

Bringing the cold mental to his lips, he gently kissed it and whispered, "I’m about to die."

The metal shell broke open. He lowered his shaking hand, raised Draco’s wand beneath the Cloak, and murmured, ‘Lumos.’

The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone were still discernible.

And again, Harry understood, without having to think. It did not matter about bringing them back, for he was about to join them. He was not really fetching them: they were fetching him.

Closing his eyes, he rolled the stone three times in his hand. 

He knew it had happened because he heard slight movements around him that suggested frail bodies shifting their footing on the earthy, twig-strewn ground that marked the outer edge of the Forest. He opened his eyes and looked around. 

They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely to the Riddle that had plagued Harry’s dreams, so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. Less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved towards him, and on each face, there was the same loving smile.

James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which he had died, and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided, like Mr. Weasley’s.

Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen him in life. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

Lupin was younger too, and much less shabby, and his hair was thicker and darker. He looked happy to be back in this familiar place, scene of so many adolescent wanderings.

Cedric stood tall and proud, still wearing the same yellow and black shirt he had entered the maze with, Harry was now a year older than him, like a memory frozen in time. His eyes were warm, and he wore a soft, gentle smile, the one that Harry had missed so much.

Lily’s smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew close to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily as though she would never be able to look at him enough.

“You’ve been so brave.” His mother’s voice was the most calming thing he had ever heard in all his seventeen years.  
He could not speak. His eyes feasted on her, and he thought that he would like to stand and look at her forever, and that would be enough.

“You are nearly there,” said James. “Very close. We are so proud of you.”

It was all too much as his gaze turned from his mother to his father. They were so young; all Harry had ever wanted was a life with them.

“Does it hurt?” The childish question had fallen from Harry’s lips before he could stop it.

“Dying? Not at all.” This time it was Cedric who spoke. “It’s like falling asleep.” 

For a moment all Harry could do was stare at Cedric, not a day had passed since the final task that Harry did not think of him.

“Ced, it should have been me, I’m sorry.” Harry could now feel his whole body shake as he addressed Cedric. “You deserved so much more than this.”

The brown-eyed boy smiled at him, there was no malice or anger in his eyes. “Harry, this isn’t your fault, you did everything right.” His voice was so soft, it made Harry’s chest ache.

“I didn’t want you to die,” said Harry. These words came without his volition. “Any of you. I’m sorry –“

A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart of the Forest lifted the hair at Harry’s brow. He knew that they would not tell him to go, that it would have to be his decision.

“You’ll stay with me?” It came out in merely a whisper as Harry took in their faces.

“Until the very end.” Said, James.

“They won’t be able to see you?” 

“We are part of you,’ said Sirius. "Invisible to anyone else.”

Harry looked at his mother.

“Stay close to me.” 

And he set off. The Dementors’ chill did not overcome him; he passed through it with his companions, and they acted like Patronuses to him, and together they marched through the old trees that grew closely together, their branches tangled, their roots gnarled and twisted underfoot. Harry clutched the Cloak tightly around him in the darkness, traveling deeper and deeper into the forest, with no idea where exactly Voldemort was, but sure that he would find him. Beside him, making scarcely a sound, walked James, Sirius, Lupin, Cedric, and Lily, and their presence was his courage and the reason he was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

His body and mind felt oddly disconnected now, his limbs working without conscious instruction, as if he were passenger, not driver, in the body, he was about to leave. The dead who walked beside him through the Forest was much more real to him now than the living back at the castle: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and all the others were the ones who felt like ghosts as he stumbled and slipped towards the end of his life, towards Voldemort …

A thud and a whisper: some other living creature had stirred close by. Harry stopped under the Cloak, peering around, listening, and his mother and father, Lupin and Sirius stopped too.

“Someone there,” came a rough whisper close at hand. “He’s got an Invisibility Cloak. Could it be –?”

Two figures emerged from behind a nearby tree: their wands flared, and Harry saw Yaxley and Dolohov peering into the darkness, directly at the place Harry, his mother, father, Cedric, Sirius, and Lupin stood. Apparently, they could not see anything.

“Definitely heard something,” said Yaxley. “Animal, d’you reckon?”

“That headcase Hagrid kept a whole bunch of stuff in here,” said Dolohov, glancing over his shoulder.

Yaxley looked down at his watch.

“Times nearly up, Potter’s had his hour, he’s not coming.”

“He was so sure he would come! He’s not going to be happy.”

“Better go back,” said Yaxley. “Find out what the plan is now.”

He and Dolohov turned and walked deeper into the Forest. Harry followed them, knowing that they would lead him exactly where he wanted to go. He glanced sideways, and his mother smiled at him, and his father nodded encouragement.

They had traveled on mere minutes when Harry saw light ahead, and Yaxley and Dolohov stepped out into a clearing that Harry knew had been the place where the monstrous Aragog had once lived. The remnants of his vast web were there still, but the swarm of descendants he had spawned had been driven out by the Death Eaters, to fight for their cause.

A fire burned in the middle of the clearing, and its flickering light fell over a crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and hooded, others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting massive shadows over the scene, their faces were cruel, rough-hewn like a rock. Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great, blond Rowle was dabbing at his bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated and terrified, and Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension. 

Every eye was fixed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene, though absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek. Behind his head, still swirling and coiling, the great snake Nagini floated in her glittering, charmed cage, like a monstrous halo.

When the two Death Eaters whom Harry was following appeared, Voldemort looked up. 

“No sign of him, My Lord.” It was Dolohov who spoke. 

Voldemort’s expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly, he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.

“I thought he would come,” said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. “I expected him to come.”  
Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. His hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight.

“I was, it seems … mistaken,” said Voldemort.

“You weren’t,” Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster he did not want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers and out of the corner of his eyes he saw his parents, Cedric, Sirius, and Lupin vanish as he stepped forwards into the firelight. At that moment he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them.

The illusion was gone as soon as it had come. The giants roared as the Death Eaters rose together, and there were many cries, gasps, even laughter. Voldemort had frozen where he stood, but his red eyes had found Harry, and he stared as Harry moved towards him, with nothing but the fire between them.

Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He knew that the snake was too well protected, knew that if he managed to point the wand at Nagini, fifty curses would hit him first. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little. to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth. 

“Harry Potter,” he said, very softly, it reminded Harry of how Voldemort first spoke to him in the graveyard, it seemed like a lifetime ago. “The boy who lived.”

Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand before he lost control before he betrayed fear –

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

-𝘍𝘪𝘯.  
. . .  
.  
𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦  
. . .  
.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this ending took so long I have been so overwhelmed with school. Honestly, I struggled with choosing how to end it and ultimately decided to go with the resurrection stone in book seven. To everyone who read this fic I appreciate you so much and hope you enjoyed this story, I loved writing it. I would love to know your thoughts on the ending/the fic in general :) Love you all <3


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